1 Take to His bosom the poor orphan child.
2 His whole face was colourless rock: his eye was both spark and flint.
3 His softened voice announced that he was subdued; so I, in my turn, became calm.
4 I could not, in those days, see God for His creature: of whom I had made an idol.
5 His deportment had now for some weeks been more uniform towards me than at the first.
6 His head was not strong: the knaves he lived amongst fooled him beyond anything I ever heard.
7 His voice and hand quivered: his large nostrils dilated; his eye blazed: still I dared to speak.
8 His last words were balm: they seemed to imply that it imported something to him whether I forgot him or not.
9 His eye wandered, and had no meaning in its wandering: this gave him an odd look, such as I never remembered to have seen.
10 His face was very much agitated and very much flushed, and there were strong workings in the features, and strange gleams in the eyes.
11 Sure was I of His efficiency to save what He had made: convinced I grew that neither earth should perish, nor one of the souls it treasured.
12 His fury was wrought to the highest: he must yield to it for a moment, whatever followed; he crossed the floor and seized my arm and grasped my waist.
13 His dark eyes and swarthy skin and Paynim features suited the costume exactly: he looked the very model of an Eastern emir, an agent or a victim of the bowstring.
14 I rely implicitly on His power, and confide wholly in His goodness: I count the hours till that eventful one arrives which shall restore me to Him, reveal Him to me.
15 His changes of mood did not offend me, because I saw that I had nothing to do with their alternation; the ebb and flow depended on causes quite disconnected with me.
16 His figure was enveloped in a riding cloak, fur collared and steel clasped; its details were not apparent, but I traced the general points of middle height and considerable breadth of chest.
17 We know that God is everywhere; but certainly we feel His presence most when His works are on the grandest scale spread before us; and it is in the unclouded night-sky, where His worlds wheel their silent course, that we read clearest His infinitude, His omnipotence, His omnipresence.
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