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Strindberg, August, 1849-1912

"Historical Miniatures"

"
The labyrinth was a thicket threaded by secret passages, bordered
by hornbeam-hedges, four ells high, and so dense that one did not
notice the thin iron balustrade which ran along them. Artistically
contrived and impenetrable, the labyrinth meandered in every
direction. It seemed to be endlessly long, and was so arranged that
its perspectives deceived the eye. It also contained secret doors
and underground passages, and a visitor soon grew aware that it had
not been constructed as a joke, but in deadly earnest. Only the King
and Doctor Coctier possessed the key to this puzzle.
When the two men had walked for a good time, admired statues and
watched fountains play, Balthasar wished to sit upon a bench,
whether it was that he was tired or suspected some mischief.
But the Doctor prevented him: "No, not on _that_ seat," he said.
They continued their walk. But now the Doctor quickened his steps,
and, after a while, his guest felt again weary and confused in his
head from the perpetual turning round. Therefore he threw himself on
the first seat which he saw, and drew a deep breath.
"You run the life out of me, Doctor," he said.
"No, you are not so short-lived," answered the Doctor; "I see a long
line of life on your forehead, and the bar between your eyes shows
that you were born under the planet Jupiter.


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