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She addresses you as the Flower of the Lotus, as the Resplendent Moonbeam. I thought then perhaps you didn’t care, that you were like so many of them. The music took hold of her slowly as her eyes wandered from the indistinct still ranks of the audience to the little busy orchestra with its quivering violins, its methodical movements of brown and silver instruments, its brightly lit scores and shaded lights. Bribble’s rendering of the service —he had the sort of voice that brings out things—and was still teeming with ideas about it when finally a wild outburst from the organ made it clear that, whatever snivelling there might be down in the chancel, that excellent wind instrument was, in its Mendelssohnian way, as glad as ever it could be. Blueskin and the Minters were dragging Wood to the pump. “What is a ballot-box like, exactly?” she asked, as though it was very important to her. “Nor am I going to,” she answered, smiling. The open books she knew by heart; aye, they had been ground into her, morning and night.
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This video was uploaded to ssibasmatirice.com on 09-06-2024 07:39:27
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