and I draw forth from the
basket that I have hidden a cold tongue, a pot of butter, and some fresh
rolls.

Now their wonder turns into admiration; the little family have never seen
such a feast! They lay the cloth, they sit down, they eat; it is a
complete banquet for all, and each contributes his share to it. I had
brought only the supper: and the bandbox-maker and her children supplied
the enjoyment.

What bursts of laughter at nothing! What a hubbub of questions which
waited for no reply, of replies which answered no question! The old woman
herself shared in the wild merriment of the little ones! I have always
been struck at the ease with which the poor forget their wretchedness.
Being used to live only for the present, they make a gain of every
pleasure as soon as it offers itself. But the surfeited rich are more
difficult to satisfy: they require time and everything to suit before
they will consent to be happy.

The evening has passed like a moment. The old woman told me the history
of her life, sometimes smiling, sometimes drying her eyes. Perrine sang
an old ballad with her fresh young voice. Henry told us what he knows of
the great writers of the day, to whom he has to carry their proofs. At
last we were obliged to separate, not without fresh thanks on the part of
the happy family.

I have come home slowly, ruminating with a full heart, and pure
enjoyment, on the simple events of my evening. It has given me much
comfort and much instruction. Now, no New-Year's Day will come amiss to
me; I know that no one is so unhappy as to have nothing to give and
nothing to receive.

As I came in, I met my rich neighbor's new equipage. She, too, had just
returned from her evening's party; and, as she sprang from the
carriage-step with feverish impatience, I heard her murmur "At last!"

I, when I left Paulette's family, said "So soon!"

CHAPTER II

THE CARNIVAL

February 20th

What a noise out of doors! What is the meaning of these shouts and cries?
Ah! I recollect: this is the last day of the Carnival, and the maskers
are passing.

Christianity has not been able to abolish the noisy bacchanalian
festivals of the pagan times, but it has changed the names. That which it
has given to these "days of liberty" announces the ending of the feasts,
and the month of fasting which should follow; carn-ival means, literally,
"farewell to flesh!" It is a forty days' farewell to the "blessed pullets
and fat hams," so