view?

Some time ago I was walking along the edge of the green mound on which
the Montmartre telegraph stands. Below me, along one of the zigzag paths
which wind up the hill, a man and a girl were coming up, and arrested my
attention. The man wore a shaggy coat, which gave him some resemblance
to a wild beast; and he held a thick stick in his hand, with which he
described various strange figures in the air. He spoke very loud, and
in a voice which seemed to me convulsed with passion. He raised his
eyes every now and then with an expression of savage harshness, and it
appeared to me that he was reproaching and threatening the girl, and
that she was listening to him with a submissiveness which touched my
heart. Two or three times she ventured a few words, doubtless in the
attempt to justify herself; but the man in the greatcoat began again
immediately with his loud and angry voice, his savage looks, and his
threatening evolutions in the air. I followed him with my eyes, vainly
endeavoring to catch a word as he passed, until he disappeared behind
the hill.

I had evidently just seen one of those domestic tyrants whose sullen
tempers are excited by the patience of their victims, and who, though
they have the power to become the beneficent gods of a family, choose
rather to be their tormentors.

I cursed the unknown savage in my heart, and I felt indignant that these
crimes against the sacred peace of home could not be punished as they
deserve, when I heard his voice approaching nearer. He had turned the
path, and soon appeared before me at the top of the slope.

The first glance, and his first words, explained everything to me: in
place of what I had taken for the furious tones and terrible looks of an
angry man, and the attitude of a frightened victim, I had before me only
an honest citizen, who squinted and stuttered, but who was explaining
the management of silkworms to his attentive daughter.

I turned homeward, smiling at my mistake; but before I reached my
faubourg I saw a crowd running, I heard calls for help, and every
finger pointed in the same direction to a distant column of flame. A
manufactory had taken fire, and everybody was rushing forward to assist
in extinguishing it.

I hesitated. Night was coming on; I felt tired; a favorite book was
awaiting me; I thought there would be no want of help, and I went on my
way.

Just before I had erred from want of consideration; now it was from
selfishness and c