William Bouguereau The Song of the Angels painting

William Bouguereau The Song of the Angels paintingPierre-Auguste Cot Le Printemps paintingLeonardo da Vinci picture of the last supper painting
plain cloth, each four ells in length, one draped around his body, the other over his shoulder. Large eyes; long lashes like a girl's. His strides can seem too long for his legs, but he's a light-footed man. Orphans learn to be moving targets, develop a rapid walk, quick reactions, hold-yourtongue caution. Up through the thorn-bushes and opobalsam trees he comes, scrabbling on boulders, this is a fit man, no softbellied usurer he. And yes, to state it again: takes an to cut off into the wilds, up Mount Cone, sometimes for a month at a stretch, just to be alone.
His name: a dream-name, changed by the vision. Pronounced correctly, it means he-for-whom-thanks-should-be-given, but he won't answer to that here; nor, though he's well aware of what they call him, to his nickname in Jahilia down below -- _he-who-goes-up-and-down-old-Coney_. Here he is nor MocHammered; has adopted, instead, the demon-tag the farangis hung around his neck. To turn insults into strengths, whigs, tories, Blacks all chose to wear with pride the names they were given in scorn; likewise, our mountain-climbing, prophetmotivated solitary is to be the medieval baby--frightener, the Devil's synonym: Mahound.