Читать книгу A Son of Ishmael. A Novel онлайн

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“Bad enough hole for a man to live in, but the lap of luxury compared to Nancy’s sitting-room,” he muttered. A red gleam sparkled angrily in his eye as he spoke; he sat down where the firelight fell all over him, tossed off his heavy boots, and gazed gloomily into the heart of a large and glowing fire. He was a huge man, built on a massive scale. He tossed his hair impatiently from a broad and splendidly developed brow. At this moment his eyes were full of dreadful and fierce reflection, and he pulled at his long moustache with an almost savage gesture.

“Without food, without fire, without the decencies of life—that old fool is a madman,” he muttered again, “but I’ll soon change matters. I take her with leave, if I can, but I take her without leave if any difficulties are put in my way, and sooner without leave than with. After all, to carry her off by force would suit my purpose better. The wild bird shall sing to me and make me gentle; I cannot live without her. Hullo! what’s up now, Samson? Why don’t you go to bed?”