CHAPTER THE THIRD THE MORNING OF THE CRISIS Part 1 Two days after came the day of the Crisis, the day of the Fadden Dance. At last he took up his thoughts again: “I wonder if, some day, one won’t need to rebel against customs and laws? If this discord will have gone? Some day, perhaps—who knows?—the old won’t coddle and hamper the young, and the young won’t need to fly in the faces of the old. He fancied that the turnkeys had discovered his flight and were in pursuit of him,—that they had climbed up the chimney,—entered the Red Room,— tracked him from door to door, and were now only detained by the gate which he had left unbroken in the chapel. “I wouldn’t make this objection,” Mr. I want to give myself to you. Sebastian had fetched tallow, which she angrily ordered him not to use, as she suspected its origin was not animal but human. In a little while he and she were talking quite easily and agreeably. All this while he was arranging the medicines on the stand and jotting down his instructions on a chart sheet.
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