'
"See, this is the way to open it, and then you use it like this: strike
from below upwards--the blade goes in better that way--and it's so sharp
it will go through anything. Carry it in the bosom of your dress, and it
is always ready; then if anybody bothers you, out with it, and paf! you
have them ripped up in no time," and the strange, eerie little creature
accompanied her words with appropriate gestures, by way of illustration.
This extraordinary lesson in the art of using a knife, given in the dead
of night, and under such peculiar circumstances, seemed like a nightmare
to Isabelle.
"Be sure you hold the knife like this, do you see? tightly clasped in
your fingers--as long as you have it no one can harm you, but you can
hurt them. Now, I must go--adieu, and don't forget Chiquita."
So saying, the queer little elf pushed a table up to the wall under the
bull's eye, mounted it, sprang up and caught hold of the iron bar with
the agility of a monkey, swung herself up in some extraordinary fashion,
wriggled through the small opening and disappeared, chanting in a rude
measure, "Chiquita whisks through key-holes, and dances on the sharp
points of spear-heads and the broken glass on garden walls, without ever
hurting herself one bit--and nobody can catch her.
Pages:
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379