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- 4500
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:52.918Z
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- structure-extraction-lambda
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- 4426
- text
- Such was this Mr. Falsgrave, who now sat at Mrs. Glendinning's breakfast
table, a corner of one of that lady's generous napkins so inserted into
his snowy bosom, that its folds almost invested him as far down as the
table's edge; and he seemed a sacred priest, indeed, breakfasting in his
surplice.
"Pray, Mr. Falsgrave," said Mrs. Glendinning, "break me off a bit of
that roll."
Whether or not his sacerdotal experiences had strangely refined and
spiritualized so simple a process as breaking bread; or whether it was
from the spotless aspect of his hands: certain it is that Mr. Falsgrave
acquitted himself on this little occasion, in a manner that beheld of
old by Leonardo, might have given that artist no despicable hint
touching his celestial painting. As Pierre regarded him, sitting there
so mild and meek; such an image of white-browed and white-handed, and
napkined immaculateness; and as he felt the gentle humane radiations
which came from the clergyman's manly and rounded beautifulness; and as
he remembered all the good that he knew of this man, and all the good
that he had heard of him, and could recall no blemish in his character;
and as in his own concealed misery and forlornness, he contemplated the
open benevolence, and beaming excellent-heartedness of Mr. Falsgrave,
the thought darted through his mind, that if any living being was
capable of giving him worthy counsel in his strait; and if to any one he
could go with Christian propriety and some small hopefulness, that
person was the one before him.
"Pray, Mr. Glendinning," said the clergyman, pleasantly, as Pierre was
silently offering to help him to some tongue--"don't let me rob you of
it--pardon me, but you seem to have very little yourself this morning, I
think. An execrable pun, I know: but"--turning toward Mrs.
Glendinning--"when one is made to feel very happy, one is somehow apt to
say very silly things. Happiness and silliness--ah, it's a suspicious
coincidence."
"Mr. Falsgrave," said the hostess--"Your cup is empty. Dates!--We were
talking yesterday, Mr. Falsgrave, concerning that vile fellow, Ned."
"Well, Madam," responded the gentleman, a very little uneasily.
"He shall not stay on any ground of mine; my mind is made up, sir.
Infamous man!--did he not have a wife as virtuous and beautiful now, as
when I first gave her away at your altar?--It was the sheerest and most
gratuitous profligacy."
The clergyman mournfully and assentingly moved his head.
"Such men," continued the lady, flushing with the sincerest
indignation--"are to my way of thinking more detestable than murderers."
"That is being a little hard upon them, my dear Madam," said Mr.
Falsgrave, mildly.
"Do you not think so, Pierre"--now, said the lady, turning earnestly
upon her son--"is not the man, who has sinned like that Ned, worse than
a murderer? Has he not sacrificed one woman completely, and given infamy
to another--to both of them--for their portion. If his own legitimate
boy should now hate him, I could hardly blame him."
"My dear Madam," said the clergyman, whose eyes having followed Mrs.
Glendinning's to her son's countenance, and marking a strange
trepidation there, had thus far been earnestly scrutinizing Pierre's not
wholly repressible emotion;--"My dear Madam," he said, slightly bending
over his stately episcopal-looking person--"Virtue has, perhaps, an
over-ardent champion in you; you grow too warm; but Mr. Glendinning,
here, he seems to grow too cold. Pray, favor us with your views, Mr.
Glendinning?"
"I will not think now of the man," said Pierre, slowly, and looking away
from both his auditors--"let us speak of Delly and her infant--she has,
or had one, I have loosely heard;--their case is miserable indeed."
"The mother deserves it," said the lady, inflexibly--"and the
child--Reverend sir, what are the words of the Bible?"
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