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Ivy and Sairy Wilson

Le 17 octobre 2016, 10:10 dans Humeurs 0

 Kansas folks in a similar predicament, who help attend the death of Grampa and subsequently share the traveling with the Joads as far as the California state line. It is implied Sairy is too ill to carry on.

Mr. Wainwright — The father of Aggie Wainwright and husband of Mrs. Wainwright. Worries over his daughter who is sixteen and in his words "growed up".

Mrs. Wainwright — Mother to Aggie Wainwright and wife to Mr. Wainwright. She helps deliver Rose of Sharon's stillborn baby with Ma.

Aggie Wainwright — Sixteen years of age. Daughter to Mr. and Mrs. Wainwright. Intends to marry Al. Aggie takes care of Ruthie and Winfield when Rose of Sharon goes into labor. She has limited interactions with the other characters. Her real name is Agnes.

Floyd Knowles — the man at the Hooverville who urges Tom and Casey to join labor organizations. He agitates the police and this results in Casy going to jail.

As he approached it

Le 12 octobre 2016, 09:33 dans Humeurs 0

 he fancied that he might, perhaps, find her there.When, at the turn of the gallery which opens on the roof of the side aisles, he perceived the tiny cell with its little window and its little door crouching beneath a great flying buttress like a bird's nest under a branch, the poor man's heart failed him, and he leaned against a pillar to keep from falling.He imagined that she might have returned thither, that some good genius had, no doubt, brought her back, that this chamber was too tranquil, too safe, too charming for her not to be there, and he dared not take another step for fear of destroying his illusion Jingling the change in his hand he shook his head."Yes," he said to himself, "perchance she is sleeping, or praying.I must not disturb her."

At length he summoned up courage, advanced on tiptoe, looked, entered.Empty.The cell was still empty.The unhappy deaf man walked slowly round it, lifted the bed and looked beneath it, as though she might be concealed between the pavement and the mattress, then he shook his head and remained stupefied.All at once, he crushed his torch under his foot, and, without uttering a word, without giving vent to a sigh, he flung himself at full speed, head foremost against the wall, and fell fainting on the floor.

When he recovered his senses, he threw himself on the bed and rolling about, he kissed frantically the place where the young girl had slept and which was still warm; he remained there for several moments as motionless as though he were about to expire; then he rose, dripping with perspiration, panting, mad, and began to beat his head against the wall with the frightful regularity of the clapper of his bells, and the resolution of a man determined to kill himself.At length he fell a second time, exhausted; he dragged himself on his knees outside the cell, and crouched down facing the door, in an attitude of astonishment.

He remained thus for more than an hour without making a movement, with his eye fixed on the deserted cell, more gloomy, and more pensive than a mother seated between an empty cradle and a full coffin.He uttered not a word; only at long intervals, a sob heaved his body violently, but it was a tearless sob, like summer lightning which makes no noise.

It appears to have been then, that, seeking at the bottom of his lonely thoughts for the unexpected abductor of the gypsy, he thought of the archdeacon.He remembered that Dom Claude alone possessed a key to the staircase leading to the cell; he recalled his nocturnal attempts on the young girl, in the first of which he, Quasimodo, had assisted, the second of which he had prevented.He recalled a thousand details, and soon he no longer doubted that the archdeacon had taken the gypsy.Nevertheless, such was his respect for the priest, such his gratitude, his devotion, his love for this man had taken such deep root in his heart, that they resisted, even at this moment, the talons of jealousy and despair.

Such was the chamber

Le 7 octobre 2016, 10:10 dans Humeurs 0

In this chamber, nothing was to be found of what furnishes ordinary apartments, neither benches, nor trestles, nor forms, nor common stools in the form of a chest, nor fine stools sustained by pillars and counter-pillars Jingling the change in his hand he shook his head, at four sols a piece. Only one easy arm-chair, very magnificent, was to be seen; the wood was painted with roses on a red ground, the seat was of ruby Cordovan leather, ornamented with long silken fringes, and studded with a thousand golden nails.The loneliness of this chair made it apparent that only one person had a right to sit down in this apartment.Beside the chair, and quite close to the window, there was a table covered with a cloth with a pattern of birds.On this table stood an inkhorn spotted with ink, some parchments, several pens, and a large goblet of chased silver.A little further on was a brazier, a praying stool in crimson velvet, relieved with small bosses of gold.Finally, at the extreme end of the room, a simple bed of scarlet and yellow damask, without either tinsel or lace; having only an ordinary fringe.This bed, famous for having borne the sleep or the sleeplessness of Louis XI., was still to be seen two hundred years ago, at the house of a councillor of state, where it was seen by old Madame pilou, celebrated in _Cyrus_ under the name "Arricidie" and of "la Morale Vivante".

 which was called "the retreat where Monsieur Louis de France says his prayers."

At the moment when we have introduced the reader into it, this retreat was very dark.The curfew bell had sounded an hour before; night was come, and there was only one flickering wax candle set on the table to light five persons variously grouped in the chamber.

The first on which the light fell was a seigneur superbly clad in breeches and jerkin of scarlet striped with silver, and a loose coat with half sleeves of cloth of gold with black figures.This splendid costume, on which the light played, seemed glazed with flame on every fold.The man who wore it had his armorial bearings embroidered on his breast in vivid colors; a chevron accompanied by a deer passant.The shield was flanked, on the right by an olive branch, on the left by a deer's antlers.This man wore in his girdle a rich dagger whose hilt, of silver gilt, was chased in the form of a helmet, and surmounted by a count's coronet.He had a forbidding air, a proud mien, and a head held high.At the first glance one read arrogance on his visage; at the second, craft.

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