The Man Who Laughs


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CHAPTER V.  
HARDQUANONNE.  
The mist was deformed by all sorts of inequalities, bulging out at once  
on every point of the horizon, as if invisible mouths were busy puffing  
out the bags of wind. The formation of the clouds was becoming ominous.  
In the west, as in the east, the sky's depths were now invaded by the  
blue cloud: it advanced in the teeth of the wind. These contradictions  
are part of the wind's vagaries.  
The sea, which a moment before wore scales, now wore a skin--such is the  
nature of that dragon. It was no longer a crocodile: it was a boa. The  
skin, lead-coloured and dirty, looked thick, and was crossed by heavy  
wrinkles. Here and there, on its surface, bubbles of surge, like  
pustules, gathered and then burst. The foam was like a leprosy. It was  
at this moment that the hooker, still seen from afar by the child,  
lighted her signal.  
A quarter of an hour elapsed.  
The skipper looked for the doctor: he was no longer on deck. Directly  
the skipper had left him, the doctor had stooped his somewhat ungainly  
form under the hood, and had entered the cabin; there he had sat down  
near the stove, on a block. He had taken a shagreen ink-bottle and a  
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Page
142 143 144 145 146

Quick Jump
1 236 472 708 944