it rains cats, dogs and elephants here in Rio.
|That's Mr Noah, my neighboor.|
It's a recurrent problem, a carioca summer trait: awfully hot days = showers in the late afternoon/early evening.
As yesterday was hotter-than-possible-to-endure, we were expecting rain but... it's puring non-stop since 10pm last night! And... Rio can't deal with 12hs raining...
As the cute song says, Cariocas don't like rain... We get gloomy...
Ah, well. Gloomy it is. Welcome dear sweet Ms Morland!
Today's 40th page: Ms Austen's gothical fun (and a touch of Tilney. Yummy.)
"“Catherine, you must go,” said James.
“But why cannot Mr. Thorpe drive one of his other sisters? I dare say either of them would like to go.”
“Thank ye,” cried Thorpe, “but I did not come to Bath to drive my sisters about, and look like a fool. No, if you do not go, d... me if I do. I only go for the sake of driving you.”
“That is a compliment which gives me no pleasure.” But her words were lost on Thorpe, who had turned abruptly away. The three others still continued together, walking in a most uncomfortable manner to poor Catherine; sometimes not a word was said, sometimes she was again attacked with supplications or reproaches, and her arm was still linked within Isabella’s, though their hearts
were at war. At one moment she was softened, at another irritated; always distressed, but always steady.
“I did not think you had been so obstinate, Catherine,” said James; “you were not used to be so hard to persuade; you once were the kindest, best-tempered of my sisters.”
“I hope I am not less so now,” she replied, very feelingly; “but indeed I cannot go. If I am wrong, I am doing what I believe to be right.”
“I suspect,” said Isabella, in a low voice, “there is no great struggle.”
Catherine’s heart swelled; she drew away her arm, and Isabella made no opposition. Thus passed a long ten minutes, till they were again joined by Thorpe, who, coming to them with a gayer look, said, “Well, I have settled the matter, and now we may all go tomorrow with a safe conscience. I have been to Miss Tilney, and made your excuses.”
“You have not!” cried Catherine.
“I have, upon my soul. Left her this moment. Told her you had sent me to say that, having just recollected a prior engagement of going to Clifton with us tomorrow, you could not have the pleasure of walking with her till Tuesday. She said very well, Tuesday was just as convenient to her; so there is an end of all our difficulties. A pretty good thought of mine – hey?”
Isabella’s countenance was once more all smiles and good humour, and James too looked happy again.
“A most heavenly thought indeed! Now, my sweet Catherine, all our distresses are over; you are honourably acquitted, and we shall have a most delightful party.”
“This will not do,” said Catherine; “I cannot submit to this. I must run after Miss Tilney directly and set her right.”
Isabella, however, caught hold of one hand, Thorpe of the other, and remonstrances poured in from all three. Even James was quite angry. When everything was settled, when Miss Tilney herself said that Tuesday would suit her as well, it was quite ridiculous, quite absurd, to make any further objection.
“I do not care. Mr. Thorpe had no business to invent any such message. If I had thought it right to put it off, I could have spoken to Miss Tilney myself. This is only doing it in a ruder way; and how do I know that Mr. Thorpe has – He may be mistaken again perhaps; he led me into one act of rudeness by his mistake on Friday. Let me go, Mr. Thorpe; Isabella, do not hold me.”
Thorpe told her it would be in vain to go after the Tilneys; they were turning the corner into Brock Street, when he had overtaken them, and were at home by this time.
“Then I will go after them,” said Catherine; “wherever they are I will go after them. It does not signify talking. If I could not be persuaded into doing what I thought wrong, I never will be tricked into it.” And with these words she broke away and hurried off. Thorpe would have darted after her, but Morland withheld him.
“Let her go, let her go, if she will go. She is as obstinate as...”
Thorpe never finished the simile, for it could hardly have been a proper one.
Away walked Catherine in great agitation, as fast as the crowd would permit her, fearful of being pursued, yet determined to persevere. As she walked, she reflected on what had passed. It was painful to her to disappoint and displease them, particularly to displease her brother; but she could not repent her resistance. "
Poor Miss Morland... in the hands of evil Thorpes...
Never fear, Tilney is here.
(or close by)
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