'A criminal? A murderer?' inquired the other. 'I say, whatever he may be, we can't allow this illegal chastisement. Let's go and take his part.'
'But it's not a murderer they're beating.'
'Not a murderer? Is it a thief then? It makes no difference, let's go and get him away from the crowd.'
'It's not a thief either.'
'Not a thief? Is it an absconding cashier then, a railway director, an army contractor, a Russian art patron, a lawyer, a Conservative editor, a social reformer? . . . Any way, let's go and help him!'
'No . . . it's a newspaper reporter they 're beating.'
'A reporter? Oh, I tell you what: we'll finish our glasses of tea first then.'
July 1878.
THE TWO BROTHERS
It was a vision . . .
Two angels appeared to me . . . two genii.
I say angels, genii, because both had no clothes on their naked bodies, and behind their shoulders rose long powerful wings.
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