“You are magnificent,” she said, “but the steel of your truth is a little oversharpened. But did Gerald trouble himself about her? No. All this juncture, a thundering crash was heard against the side of the bridge. He looked around, and as he heard that deafening shout,— as he felt the influence of those thousand eyes fixed upon him,—as he listened to the cheers, all his misgivings—if he had any—vanished, and he felt more as if he were marching to a triumph, than proceeding to a shameful death. The street was deserted, no pedestrian school-goers walked immediately in front or behind them. It is enough to make a man throw away canvas and brushes into the bottomless precipices, enough to make one weep with despair at his utter and absolute impotence.
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