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Unformatted text preview: founder, St. Francis, and my heart was filled with happiness, though no plaster or marble Francis had ever been the radiant being I saw in my mind's eye. My soul was quiet. I didn't want to talk to my sister. I wanted only to pray. The scent made me restless. She led me inside. Several candles burnt along the wall. Nothing was visible through the tiny diamond-paned windows except the snow falling, and I was stunned to see the Dutchman from Amsterdam seated at the table and motioning for me to sit down. He had taken off his clumsy Dutch hat, and looked at me eagerly as I took the opposite chair. The strange enticing scent came strongly from my sister, and once again it made me hunger for something, but I did not know for what. If it was an erotic hunger, I did not intend to find out. I was fully dressed for High Mass. I seated myself carefully and folded my hands on the table. "What is it you want?" I looked from my sister to the Dutchman. "Do you come to go to confession so that you can receive the Body and Blood of Christ tonight?" "Sa...
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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