- end_line
- 9081
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:52.921Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 9031
- text
- know'st, very early, we take the stage. I may not see thee again till
then, so, be steadfast, and cheer up a very little, Miss Ulver, and
good-night. All will be well."
II.
Next morning, by break of day, at four o'clock, the four swift hours
were personified in four impatient horses, which shook their trappings
beneath the windows of the inn. Three figures emerged into the cool dim
air and took their places in the coach.
The old landlord had silently and despondently shaken Pierre by the
hand; the vainglorious driver was on his box, threadingly adjusting the
four reins among the fingers of his buck-skin gloves; the usual thin
company of admiring ostlers and other early on-lookers were gathered
about the porch; when--on his companions' account--all eager to cut
short any vain delay, at such a painful crisis, Pierre impetuously
shouted for the coach to move. In a moment, the four meadow-fed young
horses leaped forward their own generous lengths, and the four
responsive wheels rolled their complete circles; while making vast
rearward flourishes with his whip, the elated driver seemed as a
bravado-hero signing his ostentatious farewell signature in the empty
air. And so, in the dim of the dawn--and to the defiant crackings of
that long and sharp-resounding whip, the three forever fled the sweet
fields of Saddle Meadows.
The short old landlord gazed after the coach awhile, and then
re-entering the inn, stroked his gray beard and muttered to himself:--"I
have kept this house, now, three-and-thirty years, and have had plenty
of bridal-parties come and go; in their long train of wagons,
break-downs, buggies, gigs--a gay and giggling train--Ha!--there's a
pun! popt out like a cork--ay, and once in ox-carts, all garlanded; ay,
and once, the merry bride was bedded on a load of sweet-scented new-cut
clover. But such a bridal-party as this morning's--why, it's as sad as
funerals. And brave Master Pierre Glendinning is the groom! Well, well,
wonders is all the go. I thought I had done with wondering when I passed
fifty; but I keep wondering still. Ah, somehow, now, I feel as though I
had just come from lowering some old friend beneath the sod, and yet
felt the grating cord-marks in my palms.--'Tis early, but I'll drink.
Let's see; cider,--a mug of cider;--'tis sharp, and pricks like a
game-cock's spur,--cider's the drink for grief. Oh, Lord! that fat men
should be so thin-skinned, and suffer in pure sympathy on others'
account. A thin-skinned, thin man, he don't suffer so, because there
ain't so much stuff in him for his thin skin to cover. Well, well, well,
well, well; of all colics, save me from the melloncholics; green melons
is the greenest thing!"
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- Chunk 2