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and bound at the waist with a voluminous gaudy shawl of Cashmere for girdle; over this a warm wide-flowing torrent of white drapery, lined with ermine. On my head is the skull-cap, covered by a high crimson cap with deep-blue tassel; and on my feet is a pair of thin yellow-morocco shoes, covered over with thick red-morocco babooshes. My ankles--my ten fingers--my wrists--are heavy with gold and silver ornaments; and in my ears, which, with considerable pain, I bored three days since, are two needle-splinters, to prepare the holes for rings. * * * * * O Liberty! I am free.... * * * * * While I was going to visit my old home in Harley Street that night, at the very moment when I turned from Oxford Street into Cavendish Square, this thought, fiercely hissed into my ears, was all of a sudden seething in me: 'If now I should lift my eyes, and see a man walking yonder--just yonder--_at the corner there_--turning from Harewood Place into Oxford Street--what, my good God, should I do?--I without even a knife to run and plunge into his heart?' And I turned my eyes--ogling, suspicious eyes of furtive horror--reluctantly, lingeringly turned--and I peered deeply with lowered brows across the murky winds at that same spot: but no man was there. Hideously frequent is this nonsense now become with me--in streets of towns--in deep nooks of the country: the invincible assurance that, if I but turn the head, and glance _there_--at a certain fixed spot--I shall surely see--I _must_ see--a man. And glance I must, glance I must, though I perish: and when I glance, though my hairs creep and stiffen like stirring amobse, yet in my eyes, I know, is monarch indignation against the intruder, and my neck stands stiff as sovereignty itself, and on my brow sits more than all the lordship of Persepolis and Iraz. To what point of wantonness this arrogance of royalty may lead me, I do not know: I will watch, and see. It is written: 'It is not good for man to be alone!' But good or no, the arrangement of One planet, One inhabitant, already seems to me, not merely a natural and proper, but the _only_ natural and proper, condition; so much so, that any other arrangement has now, to my mind, a certain improbable, wild, and far-fetched unreality, like the Utopian schemes of dreamers and faddists. That the whole world should have been made for _me_ alone--that London should have b
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