At last, about eight o'clock, I saw the
young fellow, fresh, elegantly dressed, coming up the hill and across to
the cafe door. My heart fluttered like a little bird in my breast as I
caught sight of him, and I blurted out, without even a greeting:
"Sixpence, old friend!" I said, putting on cheek; "here is the worth of
it," and I thrust the little packet into his hand.
"Haven't got it," he exclaimed. "God knows if I have!" and he turned his
purse inside out right before my eyes. "I was out last night and got
totally cleared out! You must believe me, I literally haven't got it."
"No, no, my dear fellow; I suppose it is so," I answered, and I took his
word for it. There was, indeed, no reason why he should lie about such a
trifling matter. It struck me, too, that his blue eyes were moist whilst
he ransacked his pockets and found nothing. I drew back. "Excuse me," I
said; "it was only just that I was a bit hard up." I was already a piece
down the street, when he called after me about the little packet. "Keep
it! keep it," I answered; "you are welcome to it. There are only a few
trifles in it--a bagatelle; about all I own in the world," and I became so
touched at my own words, they sounded so pathetic in the twilight, that I
fell a-weeping....
The wind freshened, the clouds chased madly across the heavens, and it
grew cooler and cooler as it got darker. I walked, and cried as I walked,
down the whole street; felt more and more commiseration with myself, and
repeated, time after time, a few words, an ejaculation, which called forth
fresh tears whenever they were on the point of ceasing: "Lord God, I feel
so wretched! Lord God, I feel so wretched!"
An hour passed; passed with such strange slowness, such weariness.
Pages:
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82