It was evening now, but the evening was very hot, and though the
olive trees stood in long rows, there was no shade. Quite at the bottom
of the hill there was a little sluggish muddy brook, along the sides of
which the reeds grew thickly and the dragon-flies were playing on the
water. There was nothing attractive in the spot, but he was weary, and
sat himself down on the dry hard bank which had been made by repeated
clearing of mud from the bottom of the little rivulet. He sat watching
the dragon-flies as they made their short flights in the warm air, and
told himself that of all God's creatures there was not one to whom less
power of disporting itself in God's sun was given than to him. Surely
it would be better for him that he should die, than live as he was now
living without any of the joys of life. The solitude of Casalunga was
intolerable to him, and yet there was no whither that he could go and
find society. He could travel if he pleased. He had money at command,
and, at any rate as yet, there was no embargo on his personal liberty.
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