- end_line
- 3882
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:47:57.722Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 3864
- text
- discharged with such, you know.--Hard fate!" he sighed, "little pity for
it, for who sees it?--have you dropped anything?"
Why, there is no telling, but the stranger was bowed over, and might
have seemed bowing for the purpose of picking up something, were it not
that, as arrested in the imperfect posture, he for the moment so
remained; slanting his tall stature like a mainmast yielding to the
gale, or Adam to the thunder.
The little child pulled him. With a kind of a surge he righted himself,
for an instant looked toward the herb-doctor; but, either from emotion
or aversion, or both together, withdrew his eyes, saying nothing.
Presently, still stooping, he seated himself, drawing his child between
his knees, his massy hands tremulous, and still averting his face, while
up into the compassionate one of the herb-doctor the child turned a
fixed, melancholy glance of repugnance.
The herb-doctor stood observant a moment, then said:
- title
- Chunk 3