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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"The Crusade of the Excelsior"

It was here he had rested and
hidden,--here he had tasted the first sweets of isolation and oblivion
in the dreamy garden,--here he had looked forward to peace with the
passing of the ship,--and now? The sound of voices and laughter
suddenly grated upon his ear. He had heard those voices before. Their
distinctness startled him until he became aware that he was standing
before a broken, half-rotting door that permitted a glimpse of the
courtyard of the neighboring house. He glided quickly past it without
pausing, but in that glimpse beheld Mrs. Brimmer and Miss Chubb half
reclining in the corridor--in the attitude he had often seen them on the
deck of the ship--talking and laughing with a group of Mexican gallants.
A feeling of inconceivable loathing and aversion took possession of
him. Was it to THIS he was returning after his despairing search for
oblivion? Their empty, idle laughter seemed to ring mockingly in his
ears as he hurried on, scarce knowing whither, until he paused before
the broken cactus hedge and crumbling wall that faced the Embarcadero.
A glance over the hedge showed him that the strip of beach was deserted.
He looked up the narrow street; it was empty.


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