Of course, such fine things as these are only done by crystals
which are perfectly good, and good-humored; and of course, also,
there are ill-humored crystals who torment each other, and annoy
quieter crystals, yet without coming to anything like serious war.
Here (for once) is some ill-disposed quartz, tormenting a
peaceable octahedron of fluor, in mere caprice. I looked at it the
other night so long, and so wonderingly, just before putting my
candle out, that I fell into another strange dream. But you don't
care about dreams.
DORA. No; we didn't, yesterday; but you know we are made up of
caprice; so we do, to-day: and you must tell it us directly.
L. Well, you see, Neith and her work were still much in my mind;
and then, I had been looking over these Hartz things for you, and
thinking of the sort of grotesque sympathy there seemed to be in
them with the beautiful fringe and pinnacle work of Northern
architecture. So, when I fell asleep, I thought I saw Neith and
St. Barbara talking together.
DORA. But what had St. Barbara to do with it?
L. My dear, I am quite sure St. Barbara is the patroness of good
architects; not St. Thomas, whatever the old builders thought. It
might be very fine, according to the monks' notions, in St.
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