Page "adventure" Paragraph 873
from
Brown Corpus
His hand was large and square and heavily tanned.
The voice crying in him was the voice of guilt.
His four weeks in Italy had turned into nearer three months.
He had returned to the pension a week ago.
Now, he was just in the late poems of Holderlin and therefore had most of the nineteenth century before him -- plus next semester's class preparation.
He was determined to spend an industrious summer.
Well, maybe Manas wouldn't call.
Meredith's fingers slowed and stopped over a line before him: Sie lacheln, die Schwarzen Hexen.
The menace of Manas gradually faded as Meredith asked himself should he translate it, ' How the dark fates laughed '??
Or, more rhythmically, ' The swarthy witches are laughing '??
And he missed the point that the swarthy witches might be laughing at him for hoping to escape Nicolas Manas.
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