large/7245/short_story_053_1212_librivox_64kb_mp3/shortstory053_04_titbottomsspectacles_lja_64kb_48
large/7245/short_story_053_1212_librivox_64kb_mp3/shortstory053_04_titbottomsspectacles_lja_64kb
English
7245
"Pictures of the Madonna have not her rare and pensive beauty. Upon the tranquil little islands her life had been eventless, and all the fine possibilities of her nature were like flowers that never bloomed. PICTURES OF THE MADONNA HAVE NOT HER RARE AND PENSIVE BEAUTY UPON THE TRANQUIL LITTLE ISLANDS HER LIFE HAD BEEN EVENTLESS AND ALL THE FINE POSSIBILITIES OF HER NATURE WERE LIKE FLOWERS THAT NEVER BLOOMED
ten, no heart to be touched. I could not wonder that the noble heart of devotion was broken, for it had dashed itself against a stone. I wept, until my spectacles were dimmed, for those hopeless lovers; but there was a pang beyond tears for those icy statues. "Still a boy, I was thus too much a man in knowledge,--I did not comprehend the sights I was compelled to see. I used to tear my glasses away from my eyes, and, frightened at myself, run to escape my own consciousness. Reaching the small house where we then lived, I plunged into my grandmother's room, and, throwing myself upon the floor, buried my face in her lap; and sobbed myself to sleep with premature grief. "But when I awakened, and felt her cool hand upon my hot forehead, and heard the low sweet song, or the gentle story, or the tenderly told parable from the Bible, with which she tried to soothe me, I could not resist the mystic fascination that lured me, as I lay in her lap, to steal a glance at her through the spectacles.  SORROW IN THE HEART AND DRULY OFTEN NO HEART TO BE TOUCHED I COULD NOT WONDER THAT THE NOBLE HEART OF DEVOTION WAS BROKEN FOR IT HAD DASHED ITSELF AGAINST A STONE I WEPT UNTIL MY SPECTACLES WERE DIMMED FOR THOSE HOPELESS LOVERS BUT THERE WAS A PANG BEYOND TEARS FOR THOSE ICY STATUES STILL A BOY I WAS THUS TOO MUCH A MAN IN KNOWLEDGE I DID NOT COMPREHEND THE SIGHTS I WAS COMPELLED TO SEE I USED TO TEAR MY GLASSES AWAY FROM MY EYES AND FRIGHTENED AT MYSELF RUN TO ESCAPE MY OWN CONSCIOUSNESS REACHING THE SMALL HOUSE WHERE WE THEN LIVED I PLUNGED INTO MY GRANDMOTHER'S ROOM AND THROWING MYSELF UPON THE FLOOR BURIED MY FACE IN HER LAP AND SOBBED MYSELF TO SLEEP WITH PREMATURE GRIEF BUT WHEN I AWAKENED AND FELT HER COOL HAND UPON MY HOT FOREHEAD AND HEARD THE LOW SWEET SONG OR THE GENTLE STORY OR THE TENDERLY TOLD PARABLE FROM THE BIBLE WITH WHICH SHE TRIED TO SOOTHE ME I COULD NOT RESIST THE MYSTIC FASCINATION THAT LURED ME AS I LAY IN HER LAP TO STEAL A GLANCE AT HER THROUGH THE SPECTACLES
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