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Unformatted text preview: here was a dignity. There was 309 a great depth, more terrible than any smile or expression of face it had ever made to fright me. And the sorrow mingled in my soul with that remembered euphoria. Latin words came to my mind, but I didn't really know them. They sprang from me as if I were a priest and I were saying a litany. I heard the sound of pipes; I heard the bells ring. "It's the Devil's Knell," someone said. "All Christmas Eve the bells will ring to drive the devils from the glen, to fright the little people!" And then the sky was quiet. I was alone. The garden was still, it was simply New Orleans again, and the warm southern sun was shining down upon me. The priest peeped out from the door. "Merci, Mon Pere," I said, tipped my hat and left. The streets were soft with sunshine and breeze. I walked home through the Garden District to the First Street house, and there was my beautiful Mary Beth sitting on the steps, and he was with her, a shadow, a thing of air, and both see...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.
- Spring '10