I look round. Ah,
it is not a fine sight--no. The candles burn so low, and there is
a smell of wick, and the grease runs here and there down the great
candlesticks. Upon the floor, this place and that, is a card, and
pieces of paper, and a scarf, and a broken glass, and something
that shine by a small table. This is a picture in a little gold
frame. On all the tables stand glasses, some full, and some empty of
wine. And just as the dawn come in through the tall windows, a cat
crawl out from somewhere, all ver' thin and shy, and walk across the
floor; it make the room look so much alone. At last it come and move
against m'sieu's legs, and he lift his head and look down at it, and
nod, and say something which I not hear. After that he get up, and
pull himself together with a shake, and walk down the room. Then
he see the little gold picture on the floor which some drunk young
officer drop, and he pick it up and look at it, and walk again.
'Poor fool!' he say, and look at the picture again. 'Poor fool! Will
he curse her some day--a child with a face like that? Ah!' And he
throw the picture down. Then he walk away to the doors, unlock them,
and go out. Soon I steal away through the panels, and out of the
palace ver' quiet, and go home.
Pages:
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38