Saturday, October 20, 2007

Bloß und Maennlich

It began with the tiniest sound. Carlne heard it, thought it was nothing, turned around and resumed her work. It finished with a bang, and she lay there dead. You probably wouldn't've though she was a she, just by looking at her, but she was, to which a number of unfortunate persons could testify. She looked then like just an old, dead guy—beard and all—as she lay there on the floor of the cave.

“Well, I’ll be,” said Wilfred; thick tears, themselves reflecting the harsh electric light dazzlingly as they rolled, seemed as though in play, frolicsome, and were absorbed into his stained beard—it only grew in dark patches, however very thick, about his cheeks, chin and neck. He must have loved her, of that there is no doubt; although, in general, it might be said that he was rather too simple to love a woman, and thought of Carlne as more of a mother. Nevertheless, he cried for that poor, ugly woman. Indeed, he was the only witness to her death.

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