It was on the Rue Quatrieme. It was at the Intersection of two great Thoroughfares.
The Clouds had Parted their Bangs in the Middle, and were Shimmering their Crystal Drops of Distilled Ocean in torrental volume upon the Luckless Wayfarers.
It chanced that the Prideful Maiden Priestess Was Hurrying adown the Boulevard with the Self-same Carved-Ivory-Handled Umbrella Closely Clasped in Her Delicate Marie Antoinette fingers. She was thus Ensconced Behind the Sheltering Tautness of the Stout-ribbed Gingham Umbrella With the Carved-Ivory Handle, when she passed out of the Shadow of The Massive Marble Edifice of Gothic Architecture and turned into the Rue de la Chataigne —and Unconsciously, Unintentionally and Unresistingly Punched a Tear out of the Dexter Eye of the Resistless Roderick Dhu!
I am sure that Carved-Ivory, Oggling Odalisque was to Blame! I am sure that it Wantonly Drove the Spare Rib of the Stout Gingham Umbrella to the Accomplishment of its own Foul Purpose!
The Prideful Maiden Priestess had great Commiseration for the Ardent Roderick.
She Frankly Told him so.
And in a Tacit but Potent—Oh, so Potent— Way, bade him, if he liked, to go with her to her Shrine and there have his Weeping Wounds Bound up with "a Bit of East India Silk,"—at her Shrine, whose Doors should ever be Open to Him.
Oh! Chance, Fortuitous Chance! How many Followers of St. Pendennis are Annually Ensnared in thy Name!
Ere Long,—within a Month, a Little Month—the Dudish Roderick Dhu was a cringing devotee at the Vestal Shrine of the Maiden Priestess, Praying that she should receive all his Suppliant Love, and "right smart" of his devotion. He would never leave Her Side. He would Never, never Smile on other Maidens. He would Sacrifice each Trusted and Trusting Friend and Creditor. She MUST receive his Heart and Hand, and his Partially-Eclipsed Occular!
