Принц и нищий

           Thenhestruggledagaintofreehimself—turningandtwistinghimselfthiswayandthat;tuggingfrantically,fiercely,desperately—butuselessly—tobursthisfetters;andallthewhiletheoldogresmileddownuponhim,andnoddedhishead,andplacidlywhettedhisknife;mumbling,fromtimetotime,"Themomentsareprecious,theyarefewandprecious—praytheprayerforthedying!"

           Theboyutteredadespairinggroan,andceasedfromhisstruggles,panting.Thetearscame,then,andtrickled,oneaftertheother,downhisface;butthispiteoussightwroughtnosofteningeffectuponthesavageoldman.

           Thedawnwascomingnow;thehermitobservedit,andspokeupsharply,withatouchofnervousapprehensioninhisvoice—

           "Imaynotindulgethisecstasylonger!Thenightisalreadygone.Itseemsbutamoment—onlyamoment;wouldithadenduredayear!SeedoftheChurch’sspoiler,closethyperishingeyes,an’thoufearesttolookupon—"

           Therestwaslostininarticulatemutterings.Theoldmansankuponhisknees,hisknifeinhishand,andbenthimselfoverthemoaningboy.

           Hark!Therewasasoundofvoicesnearthecabin—theknifedroppedfromthehermit’shand;hecastasheepskinovertheboyandstartedup,trembling.Thesoundsincreased,andpresentlythevoicesbecameroughandangry;thencameblows,andcriesforhelp;thenaclatterofswiftfootsteps,retreating.