Jean Francois Millet The Gleaners painting

Jean Francois Millet The Gleaners paintingJacques-Louis David Napoleon crossing the Alps paintingJoaquin Sorolla y Bastida Children on the Beach painting
from Tom's creosoted horns; I drove him back with horn and odor of my own. Thus caught between us, he spread his cloak for half a second; more loud his hum than Stokerish engine! Then from under his tunic-front a thing shot forth, shortswordlike, as Tommy struck. The buck shrieked, fell kicking, lay still. I snatched the black vestment, slick as oilskin; Bray flapped it off, face and all (underneath was a blacker), and fled -- nay, vanished -- in the crowding dark. A glance told me there was no helping T.'s T.'s T. -- his legs stuck out stiff, his eyes were filmed over, his belly swelled. I had at shadow, ground, and moat with my stick, lest Bray be camouflaged against them; waded through the icy pool (at great cost of goat-dip) and attacked the Shaft itself. The crowd had watched, dumbstruck; now as I thwacked the pillar they seemed to wake. A voice very like Peter Greene's cried, "What's that I hear a-flapping and a-flying, Leo?"
"Nothingcy!" a Nikolayan voice replied. "I don't hear!"
"Look once by the Shaft-tip!" squealed Dr. Eierkopf."Der Grosslehrer ist jetzt ein Fliegender!"
I looked up. In the pall above my flaming keeper something large and obscure appeared to rise, rolling and spreading like the smoke itself. The crowd's dismay turned