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¡®It¡¯s only that you should write it yourself,¡¯ she said. ¡®It would be more¡ªmore complete.¡¯ Fred opened his eyes with an expression of astonishment, and said he thought the science of navigation was something wonderful. Walking was not altogether a pleasant amusement for our friends, as the streets were a mass of dust, owing to the carelessness of the authorities about allowing the refuse to accumulate in them. There is a tradition that one of the emperors, in a period that is lost in the mazes of antiquity, attempted to sweep the streets in order to make himself popular with the people; but he found the task too large, and, moreover, he had serious[Pg 363] doubts about its being accomplished in his lifetime. So he gave it up, as he did not care to do something that would go more to the credit of his successor than of himself, and no one has had the courage to try it since that time. The amount of dirt that accumulates in a Chinese city would[Pg 364] breed a pestilence in any other part of the world. Not only do the Chinese appear uninjured by it, but there are some who assert that it is a necessity of their existence, and they would lose their health if compelled to live in an atmosphere of cleanliness. "Ah, no, General! By the name of the lady you love best, I beg you to see my need and let me go. I promise you never henceforth to offend your cause except in that mere woman's sympathy with what you call rebellion, for which women are not so much as banished by you--or if they are, then banish me! Treat me no better, and no worse, than a 'registered enemy'!" "Whose husband I have killed.... Ah, God!... Ah, my God! why was I chosen to do that?... And you think, Dick, it was not a question of time; that I did not ask, maybe a little too soon?" "V. Henault. The old woman's bones and ashes were cast into the Ganges, her husband still vacantly looking on, as all that was left of his life's companion floated for a few moments, and then was swallowed up in an eddy. Naturally they did. Each nodded. Moreover, Landor was very ill. In the Mogollons he had gathered and pressed specimens of the gorgeous[Pg 134] wild flowers that turn the plateaux into a million-hued Eden, and one day there had lurked among the blossoms a sprig of poison weed, with results which were threatening to be serious. He rode at the head of his column, however, as it made for home by way of the Aravaypa Ca?on. "I can see, sir," the lieutenant answered. [See larger version] "Go out and git you a rebel for yourself, if you want to know about 'em," Shorty had snapped at the Orderly. "There's plenty more up there on the hill. It's full of 'em." "A master tells you what to do," Marvor said. "I am training and there is more training to come and then work. This is because of the masters." At the wedding Rose fairly dazed the onlookers. She wore a dress of heavy white satin, with a white lace veil¡ªand a bustle. It was the first bustle that had ever been seen in Peasmarsh, or even in Rye. In itself it was devastating enough, but it soon acquired a prophetic and metaphorical significance which made it even more impressive. Spectators saw in it the forecast of Odiam's downfall¡ª"He can't stand that," said Brazier, the new man at Totease, "she's a Jezebubble."¡ª"Only it ?un't her head as she's tired this time," said Ticehurst.¡ª"She shud have worn it in front of her, and then we shud have bin interested," said Cooper of Kitchenhour. Afterwards he felt better, but he was still fuming[Pg 275] when he came to Odiam, and dashed up straight to Rose's bedroom, where she lay with the ten-days-old David and a female friend from Rye, who had come in to hear details about her confinement. Both, not to say all three, were startled by Reuben's sudden entrance, crimson and hatless, his collar flying, the dust all over him. HoMEÒÁÈËС½ã
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