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With this clear, lucid, and perfectly satisfactory explanation of
Mrs. Hemans's "Casabianca," Clarence began. Unfortunately, his
actual rendering of this popular school performance was more an
effort of memory than anything else, and was illustrated by those
wooden gestures which a Western schoolmaster had taught him. He
described the flames that "roared around him," by indicating with
his hand a perfect circle, of which he was the axis; he adjured his
father, the late Admiral Casabianca, by clasping his hands before
his chin, as if wanting to be manacled in an attitude which he was
miserably conscious was unlike anything he himself had ever felt or
seen before; he described that father "faint in death below," and
"the flag on high," with one single motion. Yet something that the
verses had kindled in his active imagination, perhaps, rather than
an illustration of the verses themselves, at times brightened his
gray eyes, became tremulous in his youthful voice, and I fear
occasionally incoherent on his lips. At times, when not conscious
of his affected art, the plain and all upon it seemed to him to
slip away into the night, the blazing camp fire at his feet to wrap
him in a fateful glory, and a vague devotion to something--he knew
not what--so possessed him that he communicated it, and probably
some of his own youthful delight in extravagant voice, to his
hearers, until, when he ceased with a glowing face, he was
surprised to find that the card players had deserted their camp
fires and gathered round the tent.
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