The £1,000,000 bank-note, and other new storiesTwain, Mark
General
The £1,000,000 bank-note, and other new stories
Twain, Mark
American essays -- 19th century; American fiction -- 19th century; Humorous stories, American
In 1842 he entered the class, and made rapid progress in the English and
Latin departments. Indeed, he continued advancing with such rapidity,
that he was like to become the first in his class, and made such
unexpected progress, and was so studious, that he had almost forgotten
the pictured saint of his affections. The fresh wreaths of the pine and
cypress had waited anxiously to drop once more the dews of Heaven upon
the heads of those who had so often poured forth the tender emotions of
their souls under its boughs. He was aware of the pleasure that he had
seen there. So one evening, as he was returning from his reading, he
concluded he would pay a visit to this enchanting spot. Little did he
think of witnessing a shadow of his former happiness, though no doubt he
wished it might be so. He continued sauntering by the road-side,
meditating on the past. The nearer he approached the spot, the more
anxious he became. At that moment, a tall female figure flitted across
his path, with a bunch of roses in her hand; her countenance showed
uncommon vivacity, with a resolute spirit; her ivory teeth already
appeared as she smiled beautifully promenading, while her ringlets of
hair dangled unconsciously around her snowy neck. Nothing was wanting to
complete her beauty. The tinge of the rose was in full bloom upon her
cheek; the charms of sensibility and tenderness were always her
associates. In Ambulinia’s bosom dwelt a noble soul—one that never
faded—one that never was conquered. Her heart yielded to no feeling but
the love of Elfonzo, on whom she gazed with intense delight, and to whom
she felt herself more closely bound because he sought the hand of no
other. Elfonzo was roused from his apparent reverie. His books no longer
were his inseparable companions—his thoughts arrayed themselves to
encourage him to the field of victory. He endeavoured to speak to his
supposed Ambulinia, but his speech appeared not in words. No, his effort
was a stream of fire, that kindled his soul into a flame of admiration,
and carried his senses away captive. Ambulinia had disappeared, to make
him more mindful of his duty. As she walked speedily away through the
piny woods, she calmly echoed: ‘O! Elfonzo, thou wilt now look from thy
sunbeams. Thou shalt now walk in a new path—perhaps thy way leads
through darkness; but fear not, the stars foretell happiness.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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