. Short stories of the tragedy and comedy of life with a critical preface . r to me, if you will be mywife! No voice replied to him, but he believed that heheard in the shadow of the room the sound of abody falling. He entered very quickly; and Simon, whohad gone to his bed, distinguished the sound of akiss and some words that his mother said very he suddenly found himself lifted up by the SIMONS PAPA 243 hands of his friend, who, holding him at the lengthof his herculean arms, exclaimed to him: You will tell your school-fellows that your papais Philip Remy, the blacksmith, and tha
. Short stories of the tragedy and comedy of life with a critical preface . r to me, if you will be mywife! No voice replied to him, but he believed that heheard in the shadow of the room the sound of abody falling. He entered very quickly; and Simon, whohad gone to his bed, distinguished the sound of akiss and some words that his mother said very he suddenly found himself lifted up by the SIMONS PAPA 243 hands of his friend, who, holding him at the lengthof his herculean arms, exclaimed to him: You will tell your school-fellows that your papais Philip Remy, the blacksmith, and that he will pullthe ears of all who do you any harm. On the morrow, when the school was full andlessons were about to begin, little Simon stood upquite pale with trembling lips: My papa, said he in a clear voice, is PhilipRemy, the blacksmith, and he has promised to boxthe ears of all who do me any harm. This time no one laughed any longer, for he wasvery well known, was Phihp Remy, the blacksmith,and he was a papa of whom anyone in the worldwould be proud. WAITER, A BOCK*. W HY on this particular evening, did I enter a certain beer shop? I cannot explain it. It was bitterly cold. A fine rain, a watery mist floated about, veiling the %^ gas jets in a transparent fog, making the pavements under the shadow of the shop fronts glitter, which revealed the soft slush and the soiled feet of the passers-by. I was going nowhere in particular; wassimply having a short walk after had passed the Credit Lyonnais, the RueVivienne, and several other streets. SuddenlyI descried a large cafe, which was more than halffull. I walked inside, with no object in mind. I wasnot the least thirsty. By a searching glance I detected a place where Iwould not be too much crowded. So I went and satdown by the side of a man who seemed to me to beold, and who smoked a half-penny clay pipe, which * Bavarian beer.(244) WAITER. A BOCK 245 had become as black as coal. From six to eight beersaucers were pile
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