And then,
making a strong resolution, I was about to tear myself away, when a
gust fiercer than usual fell upon this quarter of the beach, and I
saw now, whirling high in air, now skimming lightly across the
surface of the sands, a soft, black, felt hat, somewhat conical in
shape, such as I had remarked already on the heads of the Italians.
I believe, but I am not sure, that I uttered a cry. The wind was
driving the hat shoreward, and I ran round the border of the floe
to be ready against its arrival. The gust fell, dropping the hat
for a while upon the quicksand, and then, once more freshening,
landed it a few yards from where I stood. I seized it with the
interest you may imagine. It had seen some service; indeed, it was
rustier than either of those I had seen that day upon the street.
The lining was red, stamped with the name of the maker, which I
have forgotten, and that of the place of manufacture, VENEDIG.
This (it is not yet forgotten) was the name given by the Austrians
to the beautiful city of Venice, then, and for long after, a part
of their dominions.
The shock was complete. I saw imaginary Italians upon every side;
and for the first, and, I may say, for the last time in my
experience, became overpowered by what is called a panic terror. I
knew nothing, that is, to be afraid of, and yet I admit that I was
heartily afraid; and it was with a sensible reluctance that I
returned to my exposed and solitary camp in the Sea-Wood.
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