In the
microcosm called man, the part reason plays is a still greater one
than that of chief commander,--for it reflects into infinite parts the
consciousness of everything and of self,--as a collection of properly
arranged mirrors reflect a given object infinitely.
1 June.
Yesterday I received news from Gastein. The rooms for Pani Celina and
Aniela are ready. I sent them the particulars, together with a parcel
of books by Balzac and George Sand. To-day is Sunday, and the first
day of the races. My aunt has arrived from Ploszow and taken up her
abode with me. That she went to the races is a matter of course,
she is altogether absorbed in them. But our horses, Naughty Boy and
Aurora, which arrived here two days ago with the trainer Webb and Jack
Goose, the jockey, are on the list for Thursday; therefore my aunt's
attendance at the Sunday races was merely a platonic affair. The
goings on here are past all description. The stables have been
converted into a kind of fortress. My aunt fancies the jockeys of
other racing studkeepers shake in their shoes at the very mention of
Naughty Boy, and are ready to use every means to prevent his running;
consequently in every orange boy or organ grinder that comes into the
yard, she sees an enemy in disguise, bent upon some evil practice. The
Swiss porter and the servants have strict orders to keep an eye upon
everybody that comes in.
Pages:
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352