{"id":"01KG8AN120DVDBQNB2N5PW3T6Z","cid":"bafkreigpbbahuxqg6376ullnxoah35gf775gxdhwwxsjkx6didwd6lztk4","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":14124,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:52.924Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 3","source_file":"01KG89J1JSYKSGCE149MH9HF6A","start_line":14043,"text":"posthumous work of a poor fellow--fine lad he was, too--a friend of\r\nmine. Yes, here I have been doing all this, while you still are\r\nhammering away at that one poor plaguy Inferno! Oh, there's a secret in\r\ndispatching these things; patience! patience! you will yet learn the\r\nsecret. Time! time! I can't teach it to you, my boy, but Time can: I\r\nwish I could, but I can't.\"\r\n\r\nThere was another knock at the door.\r\n\r\n\"Oh!\" cried Millthorpe, suddenly turning round to it, \"I forgot, my boy.\r\nI came to tell you that there is a porter, with some queer things,\r\ninquiring for you. I happened to meet him down stairs in the corridors,\r\nand I told him to follow me up--I would show him the road; here he is;\r\nlet him in, let him in, good Delly, my girl.\"\r\n\r\nThus far, the rattlings of Millthorpe, if producing any effect at all,\r\nhad but stunned the averted Pierre. But now he started to his feet. A\r\nman with his hat on, stood in the door, holding an easel before him.\r\n\r\n\"Is this Mr. Glendinning's room, gentlemen?\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh, come in, come in,\" cried Millthorpe, \"all right.\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh! is that _you_, sir? well, well, then;\" and the man set down the\r\neasel.\r\n\r\n\"Well, my boy,\" exclaimed Millthorpe to Pierre; \"you are in the Inferno\r\ndream yet. Look; that's what people call an _easel_, my boy. An _easel_,\r\nan _easel_--not a _weasel_; you look at it as though you thought it a\r\nweasel. Come; wake up, wake up! You ordered it, I suppose, and here it\r\nis. Going to paint and illustrate the Inferno, as you go along, I\r\nsuppose. Well, my friends tell me it is a great pity my own things aint\r\nillustrated. But I can't afford it. There now is that Hymn to the Niger,\r\nwhich I threw into a pigeon-hole, a year or two ago--that would be fine\r\nfor illustrations.\"\r\n\r\n\"Is it for Mr. Glendinning you inquire?\" said Pierre now, in a slow, icy\r\ntone, to the porter.\r\n\r\n\"Mr. Glendinning, sir; all right, aint it?\"\r\n\r\n\"Perfectly,\" said Pierre mechanically, and casting another strange,\r\nrapt, bewildered glance at the easel. \"But something seems strangely\r\nwanting here. Ay, now I see, I see it:--Villain!--the vines! Thou hast\r\ntorn the green heart-strings! Thou hast but left the cold skeleton of\r\nthe sweet arbor wherein she once nestled! Thou besotted, heartless hind\r\nand fiend, dost thou so much as dream in thy shriveled liver of the\r\neternal mischief thou hast done? Restore thou the green vines! untrample\r\nthem, thou accursed!--Oh my God, my God, trampled vines pounded and\r\ncrushed in all fibers, how can they live over again, even though they be\r\nreplanted! Curse thee, thou!--Nay, nay,\" he added moodily--\"I was but\r\nwandering to myself.\" Then rapidly and mockingly--\"Pardon,\r\npardon!--porter; I most humbly crave thy most haughty pardon.\" Then\r\nimperiously--\"Come, stir thyself, man; thou hast more below: bring all\r\nup.\"\r\n\r\nAs the astounded porter turned, he whispered to Millthorpe--\"Is he\r\nsafe?--shall I bring 'em?\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh certainly,\" smiled Millthorpe: \"I'll look out for him; he's never\r\nreally dangerous when I'm present; there, go!\"\r\n\r\nTwo trunks now followed, with \"L. T.\" blurredly marked upon the ends.\r\n\r\n\"Is that all, my man?\" said Pierre, as the trunks were being put down\r\nbefore him; \"well, how much?\"--that moment his eyes first caught the\r\nblurred letters.\r\n\r\n\"Prepaid, sir; but no objection to more.\"\r\n\r\nPierre stood mute and unmindful, still fixedly eying the blurred\r\nletters; his body contorted, and one side drooping, as though that\r\nmoment half-way down-stricken with a paralysis, and yet unconscious of\r\nthe stroke.\r\n\r\nHis two companions, momentarily stood motionless in those respective\r\nattitudes, in which they had first caught sight of the remarkable change\r\nthat had come over him. But, as if ashamed of having been thus affected,\r\nMillthorpe summoning a loud, merry voice, advanced toward Pierre, and,\r\ntapping his shoulder, cried, \"Wake up, wake up, my boy!--He says he is\r\nprepaid, but no objection to more.\"\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 3"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AKWWX2BGWJCE64KZJVE77","peer_type":"section","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1JSYKSGCE149MH9HF6A","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AN123CR1EW5VM1RDX435X","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG8AN123JBBGN6Z4WBQYMQVG","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:56.384Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:49:33.480Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}