large/6923/diary_pilgrimage_1112_librivox_64kb_mp3/diaryofapilgrimage_06_jerome_64kb_99
large/6923/diary_pilgrimage_1112_librivox_64kb_mp3/diaryofapilgrimage_06_jerome_64kb
English
6923
I never enjoyed a sarcophagus more in all my life." I do not say much at the time; it would be useless. I NEVER ENJOYED A SARCOPHAGUS MORE IN ALL MY LIFE I DO NOT SAY MUCH AT THE TIME IT WOULD BE USELESS
le, so full of pathos that it is impossible to find it in one's heart to feel anything but pity for him. "I can't help it. I have given way to this sort of thing too long. It is too late to reform now. You go on and get a drink somewhere; I'll join you again in a few minutes. Don't worry about me; it's no good." And back he goes with tottering steps, while I sadly pass on into the nearest cafe, and, over a glass of absinthe or cognac, thank Providence that I learnt to control my craving for churches in early youth, and so am not now like this poor B. In a little while he comes in, and sits down beside me. There is a wild, unhealthy excitement in his eye, and, under a defiant air of unnatural gaiety, he attempts to hide his consciousness of guilt. "It was a lovely altar-cloth," he whispers to me, with an enthusiasm that only makes one sorrow for him the more, so utterly impossible does it cause all hope of cure to seem. "And they've got a coffin in the north crypt that is simply a poem. OLD MAN HE SAYS WITH A SICKLY SMILE SO FULL OF PATHOS THAT IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO FIND IT IN ONE'S HEART TO FEEL ANYTHING BUT PITY FOR HIM I CAN'T HELP IT I HAVE GIVEN WAY TO THIS SORT OF THING TOO LONG IT IS TOO LATE TO REFORM NOW YOU GO ON AND GET A DRINK SOMEWHERE I'LL JOIN YOU AGAIN IN A FEW MINUTES DON'T WORRY ABOUT ME IT'S NO GOOD AND BACK HE GOES WITH TOTTERING STEPS WHILE I SADLY PASS ON INTO THE NEAREST CAFE AND OVER A GLASS OF ABSINTHE OR COGNAC THANK PROVIDENCE THAT I LEARN TO CONTROL MY CRAVING FOR CHURCHES IN EARLY YOUTH AND SO AM NOT NOW LIKE THIS POOR BEE IN A LITTLE WHILE HE COMES IN AND SITS DOWN BESIDE ME THERE IS A WILD UNHEALTHY EXCITEMENT IN HIS EYE AND UNDER A DEFIANT AIR OF UNNATURAL GAIETY HE ATTEMPTS TO HIDE HIS CONSCIOUSNESS OF GUILT IT WAS A LOVELY ALTARCLOTH HE WHISPERS TO ME WITH AN ENTHUSIASM THAT ONLY MAKES ONE SORRY FOR HIM THE MORE SO IT UTTERLY IMPOSSIBLE DOES IT CAUSE ALL HOPED OF CURE TO SEEM AND THEY GOT A COFFIN IN THE NORTH CRIB THAT IS SIMPLY A POEM
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