tinued accordingly to sit upon
my bench, not far from the ashes of Napoleon, now drowsy, now
light-headed, now in complete mental obstruction, or only conscious of
an animal pleasure in quiescence; and now thinking, planning, and
remembering with unexampled clearness, telling myself tales of sudden
wealth, and gustfully ordering and greedily consuming imaginary meals,
in the course of which I must have dropped to sleep.

It was towards dark that I was suddenly recalled to famine by a cold
souse of rain, and sprang shivering to my feet. For a moment I stood
bewildered; the whole train of my reasoning and dreaming passed afresh
through my mind; I was again tempted, drawn as if with cords, by the
image of the cabman's eating-house, and again recoiled from the
possibility of insult. "_Qui dort dine_," thought I to myself; and took
my homeward way with wavering footsteps, through rainy streets in which
the lamps and the shop-windows now began to gleam, still marshalling
imaginary dinners as I went.

"Ah, Monsieur Dodd," said the porter, "there has been a registered
letter for you. The facteur will bring it again to-morrow."

A registered letter for me, who had been so long without one? Of what it
could possibly contain I had no vestige of a guess, nor did I delay
myself guessing; far less form any conscious plan of dishonesty: the
lies flowed from me like a natural secretion.

"Oh," said I, "my remittance at last! What a bother I should have missed
it! Can you lend me a hundred francs until to-morrow?"

I had never attempted to borrow from the porter till that moment; the
registered letter was, besides, my warranty; and he gave me what he
had--three napoleons and some francs in silver. I pocketed the money
carelessly, lingered a while chaffing, strolled leisurely to the door;
and then (fast as my trembling legs could carry me) round the corner to
the Cafe de Cluny. French waiters are deft and speedy; they were not
deft enough for me: and I had scarce decency to let the man set the wine
upon the table or put the butter alongside the bread, before my glass
and my mouth were filled. Exquisite bread of the Cafe Cluny, exquisite
first glass of old Pomard tingling to my wet feet, indescribable first
olive culled from the _hors d'oeuvre_--I suppose, when I come to lie
dying, and the lamp begins to grow dim, I shall still recall your
savour. Over the rest of that meal, and the rest of the evening, clouds
lie thick; clouds perha