Ah, Deborah! little do you foresee the terrible journey before you on which your eager young heart is urging you—the horrible, treacherous pitfalls, the cruel rocks, the wild, lonesome moors and wastes, the vale of agony and humiliation, the sombre, silent forest of failure and despair!
“And so,” said Plucritus to Genius, “and so the time is drawing near for the fulfilment of the curse?”
“The removal you mean.”
“I mean what I say. Can you seriously imagine that a book so full of crudities and absurdities might be successful?”
“Why, yes. The world is so full of common sense and wisdom that we can afford to be magnanimous.”
“And you intend to carry it through to the end?”
“Yes—to the bitter end.”
“That is a very apt expression—it implies so much, though frequent use has made it commonplace. For all that you do not expect there will be any bitter end; you expect this to go through fairly easily.”
“Well, yes, if things run smoothly; but I have always to reckon with you.”