DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.51521#0046
(38)
trilled from the high branches, sparrows collected scream^
ing in a tree and went off in great batches. A duck piu>
sued by two amorous drakes amused me. The duck was
willing to accept either suitor, and seeing that one drake
could run faster than the other she stopped to give him
his chance, and I thought that a happy union was about
to be accomplished, but the second drake hurried up in
time to stop it, and when I tried to intervene to help the
duck who might have been happy with either, all three
flew away and I knew no more of them. But have I not
described the amours of this duck and the two drakes
before? Was it in dream or was it imagination? I don’t
know, but I must beware or severe critics will cite the
two versions and declare I am making a compilation from
my voluminous writings. I remember everything until I
write it. Once I write it I forget.
After a little while I looked up and whom should I see
coming up the shelving sward but Joe Blake. The servant
at 22 has told him that he would be likely to find me in
the Green, said I to myself, and involuntarily I disliked
him, for he seemed a pure Blake, a long dark face with a
lengthy nose and a gait that reminded me of a rook stalk'
ing in quest of food. Amused at the analogy I continued.
A rook that has come upon a dead fowl, pluck, pluck,
pluck. I am the dead fowl, so he thinks. “So there you
are, George. The servant told me that I should find you
in the Green, writing your novel, I suppose, for the sake
trilled from the high branches, sparrows collected scream^
ing in a tree and went off in great batches. A duck piu>
sued by two amorous drakes amused me. The duck was
willing to accept either suitor, and seeing that one drake
could run faster than the other she stopped to give him
his chance, and I thought that a happy union was about
to be accomplished, but the second drake hurried up in
time to stop it, and when I tried to intervene to help the
duck who might have been happy with either, all three
flew away and I knew no more of them. But have I not
described the amours of this duck and the two drakes
before? Was it in dream or was it imagination? I don’t
know, but I must beware or severe critics will cite the
two versions and declare I am making a compilation from
my voluminous writings. I remember everything until I
write it. Once I write it I forget.
After a little while I looked up and whom should I see
coming up the shelving sward but Joe Blake. The servant
at 22 has told him that he would be likely to find me in
the Green, said I to myself, and involuntarily I disliked
him, for he seemed a pure Blake, a long dark face with a
lengthy nose and a gait that reminded me of a rook stalk'
ing in quest of food. Amused at the analogy I continued.
A rook that has come upon a dead fowl, pluck, pluck,
pluck. I am the dead fowl, so he thinks. “So there you
are, George. The servant told me that I should find you
in the Green, writing your novel, I suppose, for the sake