|
The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from Travels with a Donkey in the Cevenne by Robert Louis Stevenson: robed in white like any spectre, and the hood falling back, in the
instancy of his contention with the barrow, disclosed a pate as
bald and yellow as a skull. He might have been buried any time
these thousand years, and all the lively parts of him resolved into
earth and broken up with the farmer's harrow.
I was troubled besides in my mind as to etiquette. Durst I address
a person who was under a vow of silence? Clearly not. But drawing
near, I doffed my cap to him with a far-away superstitious
reverence. He nodded back, and cheerfully addressed me. Was I
going to the monastery? Who was I? An Englishman? Ah, an
Irishman, then?
|