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381 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1832
The lunatics you mention would occupy, as I see it, the highest degree in the chain which separates our planet from its satellite. And they necessarily communicate from that high degree with the intelligences of a world unknown to us, so it’s natural enough that we don’t understand them. And it’s absurd to conclude that their ideas lack sense and lucidity, because they belong to an order of sensations and reasoning quite inaccessible to our education and habits.
It isn’t that the Crumb Fairy’s state of decay was in any way repulsive. She rolled her big bright eyes with an incomparable fire under two lids as delicate and long as a gazelle’s. The wrinkles on her ivory forehead fell into creases that curved in lines so sweet and pure, they could have been taken for embellishments added by an artist’s hand. Her cheeks, especially, bright as two halves of a pomegranate, had an attraction like eternal youth, easier to feel than to explain. Her teeth might have looked too white and neat for her, but her fresh, rosy mouth left two of them protruding from the sides of her upper lip, whiter and smoother than the keys of a harpsichord, but disgracefully long – they went an inch and a half down below her chin.
“Let me, at least,” said the Crumb Fairy, who had stood up after taking my purse, and was hopping as usual on her crutch, “let me, before that last cruel separation, leave you a token of my affection, and the sight of it may soften your amorous impatience. It’s my portrait,” she went on, drawing from her breast a medallion suspended on a chain. “Only remember never to show it to a man, for I know its fatal effect on hearts. At first sight, it shakes the most experienced minds, and only you, my darling, are in no danger of catching that madness, for the next time you take possession of my hand, that will heal you.”
