All was darkness, horror, confusion, ruin. " So Ruth heard about the poets; she became tolerably familiar with the exploits of that engaging ruffian Cellini; she heard of the pathetic deafness of Beethoven; she was thrilled, saddened, exhilarated; and on the evening of the twelfth day she made bold to enter the talk. It was like pouring a strong acid over dulled metal. You’d think he wanted to meet the wretch again. Filled as he was with conflicting emotions, any stretch of silence would be dangerous. “This has almost killed your father.
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