page_21 - vigji/cainjb GitHub Wiki

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Annotated text: To reckon with Henry! That was never easy. Just beyond the laurels, I turned sharply and there he was, bending over the body of his latest victim. There was blood all about. I called to him sharply and he seemed dazed.

Afterwards I brought in my rough old friend Calabar Bean to help me---this on the very day when I had proved digitalis purpurea, though I did not know if the profession prescribe it usually as such, a signal wash out. But why should this aspect have come into my head?

Far, far from here the Adriatic breaks in a warm bay among the green Illyrian hills. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Read Mark Twain and inwardly digest.

But I had to keep my wits about me. He pottered about with me and succeeded at last in making friends with Henry.

Already he felt that I was leading him to the fountain Ponce de Leon sought, where he who drinks is deathless. And he was not so far wrong.

Original page: page_21.pdf

Original text:

To reckon with Henry! That was never easy.
Just beyond the laurels, I turned sharply and
there he was, bending over the body of his
latest victim. There was blood all about. I called
to him sharply and he seemed dazed.
Afterwards I brought in my rough old friend
Calabar Bean to help me---this on the very day
when I had proved digitalis purpurea, though I
did not know if the profession prescribe it
usually as such, a signal wash out. But why
should this aspect have come into my head?
Far, far from here the Adriatic breaks in a
warm bay among the green Illyrian hills.
Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. Read Mark
Twain and inwardly digest. But I had to keep
my wits about me. He pottered about with me
and succeeded at last in making friends with
Henry. Already he felt that I was leading him to
the fountain Ponce de Leon sought, where he
who drinks is deathless. And he was not so far
wrong.

Italian text:

Saldare i conti con Henry! Non era mai facile. Subito dietro gli allori svoltai bruscamente ed eccolo chino sul corpo della sua ultima vittima. C'era sangue ovunque. Lo chiamai in tono severo e lui mi sembrò intontito. Poi chiamai in soccorso il mio rosso, vecchio amico Fagiolo del Calabar, questo nello stesso giorno in cui avevo provato la digitale purpurea, anche se non sapevo se la professione la prescrive abitualmente come tale, con una significativa diluizione. Come mai mi era venuto in mente questo aspetto? Lontano, lontano da qui, l'Adriatico si infrange su una tiepida baia tra le verdi colline illiriche. Matteo, Marco, Luca e Giovanni. Prendete Mark Twain e as-sorbitelo. Ma dovevo stare all'erta. Lui svolse qualche lavoretto con me e infine riuscì a farsi amico Henry. Già percepiva che lo stavo portando alla fonte che aveva cercato Ponce de León, quella dove colui che beve non morirà mai. E non si sbagliava di molto.