The kisses were profuse and
tantalizing in the extreme; yet I wish, if thoughts could kill, dearest
Emma's neck would have been safer in the hug of a Norway bear than in
the clasp of your white willowy arms.
Are there not men, sitting constantly at each other's tables, who, in
the Golden Age, when people spoke and acted as they felt, would only
have encountered at the sword's point?
If we hear that our mortal foe is ruined irretrievably, we betray no
indecorous exultation, but smile complacently and say, "We are not
surprised;" or, if we have the chance, give him a last push to send him
over the precipice on whose brink he is staggering. But as for any
violent demonstration--bah! the _Vendetta_ is going out of fashion, even
in Corsica, nowadays; only on the boards of the "Princess's" does it
have a run.
It is better so. Is it not far more creditable and less ridiculous for
two of our reverend seniors, between whom there exists a deadly feud, to
comport themselves with decent reserve toward each other, than to go
vaporing about on crutches, stamping the foot that is not gouty, and
blaspheming in a weak, cracked treble, like Capulet and Montague? Hot
rooms and cold draughts are dangerous, but not so fatal as the Aqua
Tofana, and other pleasant beverages more revolting and rapid in their
effects.
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