In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.
À
LA MÉMOIRE
D'INGRES,
PEINTRE-POËTE.
FOLLE-FARINE.
BOOK I.
CHAPTER I.
Not the wheat itself; not even so much as the chaff; only the dust from the corn. The dust which no one needs or notices; the mock farina which flies out from under the two revolving circles of the grindstones; the impalpable cloud which goes forth to gleam golden in the sun a moment, and then is scattered—on the wind, into the water, up in the sunlight, down in the mud. What matters? who cares?