the Land and the Sea; and like circus-men we should never dismount, but only be steadied and rested by leaping from one to the other, while still, side by side, they both race round the sun. I have been on the Land steed so long, oh I am dizzy!'
'Thou wilt never listen to me, Pierre,' said Lucy lowly; 'there is no need of this incessant straining. See, Isabel and I have both offered to be thy amanuenses;—not in mere copying, but in the original writing; I am sure that would greatly assist thee.'
'Impossible! I fight a duel in which all seconds are forbid.'
'Ah Pierre! Pierre!' cried Lucy, dropping the shawl in her hand, and gazing at him with unspeakable longings of some unfathomable emotion.
Namelessly glancing at Lucy, Isabel slid near to him, seized his hand and spoke.
'I would go blind for thee, Pierre; here, take out these eyes, and use them for glasses.' So saying, she looked with a strange momentary haughtiness and defiance at Lucy.
A general half-involuntary movement was now made, as if they were about to depart.
'Ye are ready; go ye before,' said Lucy meekly; 'I will follow.'
'Nay, one on each arm,' said Pierre—'come!'
As they passed through the low arched vestibule into the street, a cheek-burnt, gamesome sailor passing, exclaimed, 'Steer small, my lad; 'tis a narrow strait thou art in!'
'What says he?' said Lucy gently. 'Yes, it is a narrow strait of a street indeed.'
But Pierre felt a sudden tremble transferred to him from Isabel, who whispered something inarticulate in his ear.
Gaining one of the thoroughfares, they drew near to a
