After having thus for a moment
regarded him,
"Would you favour us with a word of exhortation, sir?" he said, in
a stage-like whisper.
Now the monster had by this time insinuated a hair-like sucker into
the heart of the schoolmaster, and was busy. But at the word, as
the Red Cross Knight when he heard Orgoglio in the wood staggered
to meet him, he rose at once, and although his umbrella slipped
and fell with a loud discomposing clatter, calmly approached the
reading desk. To look at his outer man, this knight of the truth
might have been the very high priest of the monster which, while
he was sitting there, had been twisting his slimy, semi-electric,
benumbing tendrils around his heart. His business was nevertheless
to fight him, though to fight him in his own heart and that of
other people at one and the same moment, he might well find hard
work. And the loathly worm had this advantage over the knight, that
it was the first time he had stood up to speak in public since his
failure thirty years ago. That hour again for a moment overshadowed
his spirit. It was a wavy harvest morning in a village of the north.
A golden wind was blowing, and little white clouds flying aloft in
the sunny blue. The church was full of well known faces, upturned,
listening, expectant, critical.
Pages:
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202