{"id":"01KG8AMZM1E1C527NQCA1JDN4H","cid":"bafkreiet6x4r5drf3dvfbenzbbejbadyxzhgnecz6kfnvv6a4ientn2zwu","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":1907,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:52.918Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 2","source_file":"01KG89J1JSYKSGCE149MH9HF6A","start_line":1866,"text":"concealing screen. Now, never into the soul of Pierre, stole there\r\nbefore, a muffledness like this! If aught really lurks in it, ye\r\nsovereign powers that claim all my leal worshipings, I conjure ye to\r\nlift the veil; I must see it face to face. Tread I on a mine, warn me;\r\nadvance I on a precipice, hold me back; but abandon me to an unknown\r\nmisery, that it shall suddenly seize me, and possess me, wholly,--that\r\nye will never do; else, Pierre's fond faith in ye--now clean,\r\nuntouched--may clean depart; and give me up to be a railing atheist! Ah,\r\nnow the face departs. Pray heaven it hath not only stolen back, and\r\nhidden again in thy high secrecies, oh tree! But 'tis\r\ngone--gone--entirely gone; and I thank God, and I feel joy again; joy,\r\nwhich I also feel to be my right as man; deprived of joy, I feel I\r\nshould find cause for deadly feuds with things invisible. Ha! a coat of\r\niron-mail seems to grow round, and husk me now; and I have heard, that\r\nthe bitterest winters are foretold by a thicker husk upon the Indian\r\ncorn; so our old farmers say. But 'tis a dark similitude. Quit thy\r\nanalogies; sweet in the orator's mouth, bitter in the thinker's belly.\r\nNow, then, I'll up with my own joyful will; and with my joy's face scare\r\naway all phantoms:--so, they go; and Pierre is Joy's, and Life's again.\r\nThou pine-tree!--henceforth I will resist thy too treacherous\r\npersuasiveness. Thou'lt not so often woo me to thy airy tent, to ponder\r\non the gloomy rooted stakes that bind it. Hence now I go; and peace be\r\nwith thee, pine! That blessed sereneness which lurks ever at the heart\r\nof sadness--mere sadness--and remains when all the rest has gone;--that\r\nsweet feeling is now mine, and cheaply mine. I am not sorry I was sad, I\r\nfeel so blessed now. Dearest Lucy!--well, well;--'twill be a pretty time\r\nwe'll have this evening; there's the book of Flemish prints--that first\r\nwe must look over; then, second, is Flaxman's Homer--clear-cut outlines,\r\nyet full of unadorned barbaric nobleness. Then Flaxman's Dante;--Dante!\r\nNight's and Hell's poet he. No, we will not open Dante. Methinks now the\r\nface--the face--minds me a little of pensive, sweet Francesca's\r\nface--or, rather, as it had been Francesca's daughter's face--wafted on\r\nthe sad dark wind, toward observant Virgil and the blistered Florentine.\r\nNo, we will not open Flaxman's Dante. Francesca's mournful face is now\r\nideal to me. Flaxman might evoke it wholly,--make it present in lines of\r\nmisery--bewitching power. No! I will not open Flaxman's Dante! Damned be\r\nthe hour I read in Dante! more damned than that wherein Paolo and\r\nFrancesca read in fatal Launcelot!\"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 2"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AKJAEB3TBC8ZM8BB2REDY","peer_type":"section","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1JSYKSGCE149MH9HF6A","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AMZM14DA73SQZDM5XC49K","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:54.913Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:49:05.048Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}