Strong gusts of wind buffeted the train, and ghostly virage of ice followed it through the night.

“And how’s that chest of yours?” demanded Mrs. Morel. / He smiled again, with his blue eyes rather sunny. / “Oh, it’s very middlin’,” he said.

In the distance there were more paraiso trees, as well as palms, cedars, urundays, and quebrachos. With the sun shining directly down on them, they looked almost black. Apart from his companions, there was no one in sight.

Now with a bitter smile, whose light did shine / Like a fiend’s hope upon his lips and eyne, / He said, and the persuasion of that sneer / Rallied his trembling comrades— […]