"Certainly," I replied with the utmost gravity.
"Well, the Bible which I could not go to sleep without reading, and out of which I read portions daily instead of my prayers, is that book of legends by Voragine. … Do you know it?"
"Oh, yes," I assented, "the Golden Legend"
"Oh, what a world of poetry there is in it! What treasures of freshness and simplicity of feeling!"
"Well, I say! if they are all of her kidney!" was all I remarked to Mme. Wildenhoff, as I returned with her after our half-hour's call at Wieloleski's. I felt a good deal bored, and mused over the meaning of the well-known aphorism:
Dans la bête assouvie un ange se réveille.[1]
For some time Imszanski has been spending his evenings at home! He either goes out later in the evening, or not at all, and Martha's hopes are reviving within her; but I do not take this conversion of his very seriously.
We three sit together frequently; now and
- ↑ When the brute's gorged, an angel wakes within it.
