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Young Irony

           Hestumbledblindlyon,huntingforawayout,andfinally,throughwebsoftwistedbranches,caughtsightofariftinthetreeswheretheunbrokenlightningshowedopencountry.Herushedtotheedgeofthewoodsandthenhesitatedwhetherornottocrossthefieldsandtrytoreachtheshelterofthelittlehousemarkedbyalightfardownthevalley.Itwasonlyhalfpastfive,buthecouldseescarcelytenstepsbeforehim,exceptwhenthelightningmadeeverythingvividandgrotesqueforgreatsweepsaround.

           Suddenlyastrangesoundfellonhisears.Itwasasong,inalow,huskyvoice,agirl’svoice,andwhoeverwassingingwasveryclosetohim.Ayearbeforehemighthavelaughed,ortrembled;butinhisrestlessmoodheonlystoodandlistenedwhilethewordssankintohisconsciousness:

           "Lessanglotslongs

           Desviolons

           Del’automne

           Blessentmoncoeur

           D’unelangueur

           Monotone."

           Thelightningsplitthesky,butthesongwentonwithoutaquaver.Thegirlwasevidentlyinthefieldandthevoiceseemedtocomevaguelyfromahaystackabouttwentyfeetinfrontofhim.

           Thenitceased:ceasedandbeganagaininaweirdchantthatsoaredandhungandfellandblendedwiththerain:

           "Toutsuffocant

           Etblemequand

           Sonnel’heure

           Jemesouviens

           Desjoursanciens

           Etjepleure...."

           "WhothedevilisthereinRamillyCounty,"mutteredAmoryaloud,"whowoulddeliverVerlaineinanextemporaneoustunetoasoakinghaystack?"

           "Somebody’sthere!"criedthevoiceunalarmed."Whoareyou?Manfred,St.

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Roboto Lora
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