{"id":"01KG8AMZM1D4Q76BPHV6WH7XEY","cid":"bafkreia3k2bmmoynd4dmvqufk5xpaixvw4cvkscqvheccjt6ml3gngnpn4","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":1741,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:52.918Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 4","source_file":"01KG89J1JSYKSGCE149MH9HF6A","start_line":1702,"text":"deeper in him; he turns round and menaces the air and talks to it, as if\r\ndefied by the air. Woe is me, that fairy love should raise this evil\r\nspell!--Pierre?\"\r\n\r\n\"But now I was infinite distances from thee, oh my Lucy, wandering\r\nbaffled in the choking night; but thy voice might find me, though I had\r\nwandered to the Boreal realm, Lucy. Here I sit down by thee; I catch a\r\nsoothing from thee.\"\r\n\r\n\"My own, own Pierre! Pierre, into ten trillion pieces I could now be\r\ntorn for thee; in my bosom would yet hide thee, and there keep thee\r\nwarm, though I sat down on Arctic ice-floes, frozen to a corpse. My own,\r\nbest, blessed Pierre! Now, could I plant some poniard in me, that my\r\nsilly ailings should have power to move thee thus, and pain thee thus.\r\nForgive me, Pierre; thy changed face hath chased the other from me; the\r\nfright of thee exceeds all other frights. It does not so haunt me now.\r\nPress hard my hand; look hard on me, my love, that its last trace may\r\npass away. Now I feel almost whole again; now, 'tis gone. Up, my Pierre;\r\nlet us up, and fly these hills, whence, I fear, too wide a prospect\r\nmeets us. Fly we to the plain. See, thy steeds neigh for thee--they call\r\nthee--see, the clouds fly down toward the plain--lo, these hills now\r\nseem all desolate to me, and the vale all verdure. Thank thee,\r\nPierre.--See, now, I quit the hills, dry-cheeked; and leave all tears\r\nbehind to be sucked in by these evergreens, meet emblems of the\r\nunchanging love, my own sadness nourishes in me. Hard fate, that Love's\r\nbest verdure should feed so on tears!\"\r\n\r\nNow they rolled swiftly down the slopes; nor tempted the upper hills;\r\nbut sped fast for the plain. Now the cloud hath passed from Lucy's eye;\r\nno more the lurid slanting light forks upward from her lover's brow. In\r\nthe plain they find peace, and love, and joy again.\r\n\r\n\"It was the merest, idling, wanton vapor, Lucy!\"\r\n\r\n\"An empty echo, Pierre, of a sad sound, long past. Bless thee, my\r\nPierre!\"\r\n\r\n\"The great God wrap thee ever, Lucy. So, now, we are home.\"\r\n\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 4"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AKJA99569TQFJXNGRMNBP","peer_type":"section","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1JSYKSGCE149MH9HF6A","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AMZ28ENQMFXT7BVPZ34NR","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:54.913Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:49:05.273Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}