Jews -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction
AT first, as might have been expected, Elias's sensation was simply
one of immense relief--relief to have got clear of the house, to have
escaped the forced companionship of his uncle. But, of course, the
inherent elasticity of healthy human nature was bound ere long to assert
itself. There was bound to ensue not relief only, but reaction. A weight
had been lifted from off his spirits; they, compliant to the law of
their being, rebounded--sprang up far above their ordinary level. From
unwonted depression, his mood leaped to unwonted exaltation. It seemed
as though a great billow of happiness broke over him, and sent a glow
of delicious warmth penetrating to the innermost fibers of his
consciousness. A flood of jubilant thoughts broke loose in his brain,
and swept away the last vestige of disquiet that had been lurking there.
Forgotten were the pains and fears of the night; sunken quite out of
mind, the exasperation and the anger of the past few hours. The love of
Christine burned hot in his heart. The realization that this very night
she was to become his bride, his wife, radiated like a light through his
senses. So intense, indeed, was his thought of her, that he could all
but see her in visible shape before him, smiling upon him through her
bright brown eyes, offering him her sweet red lips to kiss. He could
all but feel the warmth and softness of her hand in his, and breathe
the dainty perfume which, flowerlike, she shed upon the air that circled
round her. His joy lent lightness to his footstep. If he had worn the
winged sandals of Mercury, he could not have marched along with greater
buoyancy or speed. It sharpened all his faculties for pleasure, and
deadened all his sensibilities to discomfort, like rich, strong wine.
The rain, beating through his clothing, and wetting his skin--that was
a pleasure. The wind, blowing in his face, brisk and cold--that was a
pleasure. It was a pleasure to tread the soppy, slippery sidewalk,
a pleasure to gaze down the long, dark vistas of the streets. The
atmosphere, rain-cleansed, had a fresh, invigorating smell.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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