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De la Mare, Walter, 1873-1956

"Henry Brocken His Travels and Adventures in the Rich, Strange, Scarce-Imaginable Regions of Romance"

Could I but catch, could I but in
words express the music his bent fingers intended, the mystery, the
peace--well; then I should indeed journey solitary on the face of the
earth, a changeling in its cities.
I half feared to descend into a country so diverse from any I had yet
seen. Hitherto at least I had encountered little else than
friendliness. But here--doves in eyries! I stood, twisting my fingers
in Rosinante's mane, debating and debating. And she turned her face to
me, and looked with age into my eyes: and I know not how woke courage
in me again.
"On then?" I said, on the height. And the gentle beast leaned forward
and coughed into the valley what might indeed be "Yea!"
So we began to descend. Down we went, alone, yet not unhappy, until in
a while I discovered, about a hundred yards in advance of me, another
traveller on the road, ambling easily along at an equal pace with
mine. I know not how far I followed in his track debating whether to
overtake and to accost him, or to follow on till a more favourable
chance offered.
But Chance--avenger of all shilly-shally--settled the matter offhand.


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