. Short stories of the tragedy and comedy of life with a critical preface . is only remaining pleasureout of regard for his health! His health! Whatwould he do with it, inert and trembling wreck thathe was? They were taking care of his life, so theysaid. His Hfe? How many days? Ten, twenty, fifty,or a hundred? Why? For his own sake? Or topreserve for some time longer, the spectacle of hisimpotent greediness in the family. There was nothing left for him to do in this life,nothing whatever. He had one single wish left, onesole pleasure; why not grant him that last solaceconstantly, until he died
. Short stories of the tragedy and comedy of life with a critical preface . is only remaining pleasureout of regard for his health! His health! Whatwould he do with it, inert and trembling wreck thathe was? They were taking care of his life, so theysaid. His Hfe? How many days? Ten, twenty, fifty,or a hundred? Why? For his own sake? Or topreserve for some time longer, the spectacle of hisimpotent greediness in the family. There was nothing left for him to do in this life,nothing whatever. He had one single wish left, onesole pleasure; why not grant him that last solaceconstantly, until he died? After playing cards for a long time, 1 went up tomy room and to bed; I was low-spirited and ^ad, A FAMILY 107 sad, sad! I sat at my window, but I heard nothingbut the beautiful warbling of a bird in a tree, some-where in the distance. No doubt the bird was sing-ing thus in a low voice during the night, to lull hismate, who was sleeping on her eggs. And I thought of my poor friends five children,and to myself pictured him snoring by the side ofhis ugly wife. BELLFLOWER*. ow Strange are those old recol-lections which haunt us, withoutour being able to get rid of them!This one is so very old that Icannot understand how it has clungso vividly and tenaciously to mymemory. Since then I have seen somany sinister things, either affectingor terrible, that I am astonished at notbeing able to pass a single day withoutface of Mother Bellflower recurring tosp. ^ my minds eye, just as I knew her for-merly, long, long ago, when I was ten ortwelve years was an old seamstress who came to myparents house once a week, every Thursday, to mendthe linen. My parents lived in one of those countryhouses called chateaux, which are merely old houseswith pointed roofs, to which are attached three orfour adjacent farms. * Clochette. (io8) BELLFLOWER I09 The village, a large village, almost a small markettown, was a few hundred yards off, and nestledround the church, a red brick church, which had
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