The street in back was deserted; I stood
there, with my hands clasped to my head, sick with disgust; I found
myself repeating out loud, over and over again, those words of
Carpenter: "It is Rome! It is Rome! Rome that never dies!"
A moment later I heard a crash of glass up above me; I ducked, just
in time to avoid a shower of it. Then I looked up, and to my
consternation saw the red-painted head and the red and white
shoulders of Carpenter suddenly emerging. The shoulders were quickly
followed by the rest of him; but fortunately there was a narrow shed
between him and the ground. He struck the shed, and rolled, and as
he fell, I caught him, and let him down without harm.
LXII
I expected to find my prophet nearly dead; I made ready to get him
onto my shoulders and find some place to hide him. But to my
surprise he started to his feet. I could not see much of him,
because of the streams of paint; but I could see enough to realize
that his face was contorted with fury. I remembered that gentle,
compassionate countenance; never had I dreamed to see it like this!
He raised his clenched hands.
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