flung myself down on a step. "No; stop!" I said, and, in order to
torture myself rightly, I arose again, and forced myself to keep
standing. I jeered at myself and hugged myself with pleasure at the
spectacle of my own exhaustion. At length, after the lapse of a few
moments, I gave myself, with a nod, permission to be seated, though,
even then, I chose the most uncomfortable place on the steps.

Lord! how delicious it was to rest! I dried the sweat off my face, and
drew great refreshing breaths. How had I not run! But I was not sorry;
I had richly deserved it. Why did I want to ask for that shilling? Now
I could see the consequences, and I began to talk mildly to myself,
dealing out admonitions as a mother might have done. I grew more and
more moved, and tired and weak as I was, I fell a-crying. A quiet,
heart-felt cry; an inner sobbing without a tear.

I sat for the space of a quarter of an hour, or more, in the same
place. People came and went, and no one molested me. Little children
played about around me, and a little bird sang on a tree on the other
side of the street.

A policeman came towards me. "Why do you sit here?" said he.

"Why do I sit here?" I replied; "for pleasure."

"I have been watching you for the last half-hour. You've sat here now
half-an-hour."

"About that," I replied; "anything more?"

I got up in a temper and walked on. Arrived at the market-place, I
stopped and gazed down the street. For pleasure. Now, was that an
answer to give? For weariness, you should have replied, and made your
voice whining. You are a booby; you will never learn to dissemble. From
exhaustion, and you should have gasped like a horse.

When I got to the fire look-out, I halted afresh, seized by a new idea.
I snapped my fingers, burst into a loud laugh that confounded the
passers-by, and said: "Now you shall just go to Levion the parson. You
shall, as sure as death--ay, just for a try. What have you got to lose
by it? and it is such glorious weather!"

I entered Pascha's book-shop, found Pastor Levion's address in the
directory, and started for it.

Now for it! said I. Play no pranks. Conscience, did you say? No
rubbish, if you please. You are too poor to support a conscience. You
are hungry; you have come on important business--the first thing
needful. But you shall hold your head askew, and set your words to a
sing-song. You won't! What? Well then, I won't go a step farther. Do
you hear that? Indeed, you are i