A Sentimental Journey Through France and Italy by Laurence Sterne
page 71 of 148 (47%)
page 71 of 148 (47%)
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betwixt the German's arm and his body, trying first on one side,
then the other; but the German stood square in the most unaccommodating posture that can be imagined: --the dwarf might as well have been placed at the bottom of the deepest draw-well in Paris; so he civilly reached up his hand to the German's sleeve, and told him his distress.--The German turn'd his head back, looked down upon him as Goliah did upon David,--and unfeelingly resumed his posture. I was just then taking a pinch of snuff out of my monk's little horn box.--And how would thy meek and courteous spirit, my dear monk! so temper'd to BEAR AND FORBEAR!--how sweetly would it have lent an ear to this poor soul's complaint! The old French officer, seeing me lift up my eyes with an emotion, as I made the apostrophe, took the liberty to ask me what was the matter?--I told him the story in three words; and added, how inhuman it was. By this time the dwarf was driven to extremes, and in his first transports, which are generally unreasonable, had told the German he would cut off his long queue with his knife.--The German look'd back coolly, and told him he was welcome, if he could reach it. An injury sharpen'd by an insult, be it to whom it will, makes every man of sentiment a party: I could have leap'd out of the box to have redressed it.--The old French officer did it with much less confusion; for leaning a little over, and nodding to a sentinel, and pointing at the same time with his finger at the distress,--the sentinel made his way to it.--There was no occasion to tell the |
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