diff --git a/src/epub/css/local.css b/src/epub/css/local.css index 52ba3e1..cbdb7dc 100644 --- a/src/epub/css/local.css +++ b/src/epub/css/local.css @@ -347,3 +347,7 @@ p span.i3{ margin-top: 1em; text-align: center; } + +#a-matter-of-mean-elevation blockquote{ + font-style: italic; +} diff --git a/src/epub/text/a-matter-of-mean-elevation.xhtml b/src/epub/text/a-matter-of-mean-elevation.xhtml index 62df113..3b6c786 100644 --- a/src/epub/text/a-matter-of-mean-elevation.xhtml +++ b/src/epub/text/a-matter-of-mean-elevation.xhtml @@ -54,15 +54,13 @@

Perched upon a table in the centre of the room in an attitude of easy preeminence was Mlle. Giraud. A chic costume of white lawn and cherry ribbons supplanted her travelling garb. There was a suggestion of lace, and a frill or two, with a discreet, small implication of hand-embroidered pink hosiery. Upon her lap rested a guitar. In her face was the light of resurrection, the peace of elysium attained through fire and suffering. She was singing to a lively accompaniment a little song:

- - “When you see de big round moon -
- Comin’ up like a balloon, -
- Dis nigger skips fur to kiss de lips -
- Ob his stylish, black-faced coon.” -
+ “When you see de big round moon +
+ Comin’ up like a balloon, +
+ Dis nigger skips fur to kiss de lips +
+ Ob his stylish, black-faced coon.”

The singer caught sight of Armstrong.