Explore "The Insurgent Chief" by Gustave Aimard on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
We must now return to the French painter that we have left buried, so to say, at the bottom of a cavern, philosophically making up his mind to this voluntary seclusion, which, however, circumstances rendered indispensable, and vigorously attacking the provisions placed before him.
Obliged to remain alone during a considerable time, and not knowing how to employ himself, the young man prolonged his meal as much as possible; and then -- when, despite all his efforts, he felt the natural impossibility of taking another mouthful -- he lit a cigar, and began to smoke with the beatific resignation of a Mahometan, or a drinker of _hatckich._ After this cigar he smoked another, then another, and then another, followed immediately by a fourth; so that midnight came almost without his perceiving it, and he laid himself upon his hammock without being wearied.