What was the matter? My drawing, my pencils, my precious copy, gathered into one crushed-up handful, perished from before my sight; I myself appeared to be shaken or emptied out of my chair, as a solitary and withered nutmeg might be emptied out of a spice-box by an excited cook. That chair and my desk, seized by the wild paletôt , one under each sleeve, were borne afar; in a second, I followed the furniture; in two minutes they and I were fixed in the centre of the grand salle ⁠—a vast adjoining room, seldom used save for dancing and choral singing-lessons⁠—fixed with an emphasis which seemed to prohibit the remotest hope of our ever being permitted to stir thence again.