Suddenly I dive into my pocket and take the papers out again.
It was a mechanical movement, an unconscious nervous twitch. I selected a
white unwritten page, and--God knows where I got the notion from--but I
made a cornet, closed it carefully, so that it looked as if it were filled
with something, and threw it far out on to the pavement. The breeze blew
it onward a little, and then it lay still.
By this time hunger had begun to assail me in earnest. I sat and looked at
the white paper cornet, which seemed as if it might be bursting with
shining silver pieces, and incited myself to believe that it really did
contain something. I sat and coaxed myself quite audibly to guess the sum;
if I guessed aright, it was to be mine.
I imagined the tiny, pretty penny bits at the bottom and the thick fluted
shillings on top--a whole paper cornet full of money! I sat and gazed at
it with wide opened eyes, and urged myself to go and steal it.
Then I hear the constable cough. What puts it into my head to do the same?
I rise up from the seat and repeat the cough three times so that he may
hear it. Won't he jump at the corner when he comes. I sat and laughed at
this trick, rubbed my hands with glee, and swore with rollicking
recklessness. What a disappointment he will get, the dog! Wouldn't this
piece of villainy make him inclined to sink into hell's hottest pool of
torment! I was drunk with starvation; my hunger had made me tipsy.
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