{"id":"01KG8AKJ9NN0DAR709TDGBARHB","cid":"bafkreidvqcsotmrkeamoepxhsxx4667waigs3zywpx42u47livvjnw45jq","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":3030,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:05.590Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 4","source_file":"01KG89J1DKC9HHJRKY25JZBEXW","start_line":2947,"text":"“Well, then, you say you want boquets and a mirror. If those articles\r\nwill at all help to solace your seclusion, I will bring them to you.”\r\n\r\n“They really would be company; the sight of my own face particularly.”\r\n\r\n“Stay here, then. I will be back in ten minutes.”\r\n\r\nIn less than that time, the good old Squire returned, puffing and\r\npanting, with a great bunch of flowers, and a small shaving-glass.\r\n\r\n“There,” said he, putting them down; “now keep perfectly quiet; avoid\r\nmaking any undue noise, and on no account descend the stairs, till I\r\ncome for you again.”\r\n\r\n“But when will that be?” asked Israel.\r\n\r\n“I will try to come twice each day while you are here. But there is no\r\nknowing what may happen. If I should not visit you till I come to\r\nliberate you—on the evening of the second day, or the morning of the\r\nthird—you must not be at all surprised, my good fellow. There is plenty\r\nof food-and water to last you. But mind, on no account descend the\r\nstone-stairs till I come for you.”\r\n\r\nWith that, bidding his guest adieu, he left him.\r\n\r\nIsrael stood glancing pensively around for a time. By and by, moving\r\nthe rolled mattress under the two air-slits, he mounted, to try if\r\naught were visible beyond. But nothing was to be seen but a very thin\r\nslice of blue sky peeping through the lofty foliage of a great tree\r\nplanted near the side-portal of the mansion; an ancient tree, coeval\r\nwith the ancient dwelling it guarded.\r\n\r\nSitting down on the Mattress, Israel fell into a reverie.\r\n\r\n“Poverty and liberty, or plenty and a prison, seem to be the two horns\r\nof the constant dilemma of my life,” thought he. “Let’s look at the\r\nprisoner.”\r\n\r\nAnd taking up the shaving-glass, he surveyed his lineaments.\r\n\r\n“What a pity I didn’t think to ask for razors and soap. I want shaving\r\nvery badly. I shaved last in France. How it would pass the time here.\r\nHad I a comb now and a razor, I might shave and curl my hair, and keep\r\nmaking a continual toilet all through the two days, and look spruce as\r\na robin when I get out. I’ll ask the Squire for the things this very\r\nnight when he drops in. Hark! ain’t that a sort of rumbling in the\r\nwall? I hope there ain’t any oven next door; if so, I shall be scorched\r\nout. Here I am, just like a rat in the wainscot. I wish there was a low\r\nwindow to look out of. I wonder what Doctor Franklin is doing now, and\r\nPaul Jones? Hark! there’s a bird singing in the leaves. Bell for\r\ndinner, that.”\r\n\r\nAnd for pastime, he applied himself to the beef and bread, and took a\r\ndraught of the wine and water.\r\n\r\nAt last night fell. He was left in utter darkness. No Squire.\r\n\r\nAfter an anxious, sleepless night, he saw two long flecks of pale gray\r\nlight slanting into the cell from the slits, like two long spears. He\r\nrose, rolled up his mattress, got upon the roll, and put his mouth to\r\none of the griffins’ months. He gave a low, just audible whistle,\r\ndirecting it towards the foliage of the tree. Presently there was a\r\nslight rustling among the leaves, then one solitary chirrup, and in\r\nthree minutes a whole chorus of melody burst upon his ear.\r\n\r\n“I’ve waked the first bird,” said he to himself, with a smile, “and\r\nhe’s waked all the rest. Now then for breakfast. That over, I dare say\r\nthe Squire will drop in.”\r\n\r\nBut the breakfast was over, and the two flecks of pale light had\r\nchanged to golden beams, and the golden beams grew less and less\r\nslanting, till they straightened themselves up out of sight altogether.\r\nIt was noon, and no Squire.\r\n\r\n“He’s gone a-hunting before breakfast, and got belated,” thought\r\nIsrael.\r\n\r\nThe afternoon shadows lengthened. It was sunset; no Squire.\r\n\r\n“He must be very busy trying some sheep-stealer in the hall,” mused\r\nIsrael. “I hope he won’t forget all about me till to-morrow.”\r\n\r\nHe waited and listened; and listened and waited.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 4"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJJ20F155CN1VA4X6YHX3","peer_type":"chapter","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1DKC9HHJRKY25JZBEXW","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AKJ9J8WYNHWHTBYJZNJKM","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG8AKJYT2EY9GJWEQHEBRABR","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:08.501Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:15.111Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}