And now, Quilt," he continued, addressing the janizary, who approached him with the horse, "fly to St. Anna watched her from the windows, watched the carriage jolt away along the cobbled street and disappear. Her aunt was blandly amiable above a certain tremulous undertow, and talked as if to a caller about the alarming spread of marigolds that summer at the end of the garden, a sort of Yellow Peril to all the smaller hardy annuals, while her father brought some papers to table and presented himself as preoccupied with them. I did not know what God had in mind then. It is enough to make a man throw away canvas and brushes into the bottomless precipices, enough to make one weep with despair at his utter and absolute impotence.
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