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Chapter 22. Who passes by this Road so late?

           MrBaptisthadbeeninamannerwhirledawaybeforetheonset,andwastakinghisbreathinquiteascaredconditionwhenClennambeckonedhimtofollowup-stairs,andreturnthebooksandpaperstotheirplaces.

           Inthelullconsequentonthedeparture—inthatfirstvacuitywhichensuesoneveryseparation,foreshadowingthegreatseparationthatisalwaysoverhangingallmankind—Arthurstoodathisdesk,lookingdreamilyoutatagleamofsun.Buthisliberatedattentionsoonrevertedtothethemethatwasforemostinhisthoughts,andbegan,forthehundredthtime,todwelluponeverycircumstancethathadimpresseditselfuponhismindonthemysteriousnightwhenhehadseenthemanathismother’s.Againthemanjostledhiminthecrookedstreet,againhefollowedthemanandlosthim,againhecameuponthemaninthecourt-yardlookingatthehouse,againhefollowedthemanandstoodbesidehimonthedoor-steps.

           ‘Whopassesbythisroadsolate?

           CompagnondelaMajolaine;

           Whopassesbythisroadsolate?

           Alwaysgay!’

           Itwasnotthefirsttime,bymany,thathehadrecalledthesongofthechild’sgame,ofwhichthefellowhadhummedthisversewhiletheystoodsidebyside;buthewassounconsciousofhavingrepeateditaudibly,thathestartedtohearthenextverse.

           ‘Ofalltheking’sknights‘tistheflower,

           CompagnondelaMajolaine;

           Ofalltheking’sknights‘tistheflower,

           Alwaysgay!’

           Cavallettohaddeferentiallysuggestedthewordsandtune,supposinghimtohavestoppedshortforwantofmore.

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