Said I.
- I should not have been mortified, Monsieur, quoth La Fleur, if
she had lost it. - Nor I, La Fleur, said I, had I found it.
Whether I did or no will be seen hereafter.
THE ACT OF CHARITY. PARIS.
The man who either disdains or fears to walk up a dark entry may be
an excellent good man, and fit for a hundred things, but he will
not do to make a good Sentimental Traveller. - I count little of the
many things I see pass at broad noonday, in large and open
streets. - Nature is shy, and hates to act before spectators; but in
such an unobserved corner you sometimes see a single short scene of
hers worth all the sentiments of a dozen French plays compounded
together, - and yet they are absolutely fine; - and whenever I have a
more brilliant affair upon my hands than common, as they suit a
preacher just as well as a hero, I generally make my sermon out of
'em; - and for the text, - "Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and
Pamphylia," - is as good as any one in the Bible.
There is a long dark passage issuing out from the Opera Comique
into a narrow street; 'tis trod by a few who humbly wait for a
fiacre, {2} or wish to get off quietly o'foot when the opera is
done. At the end of it, towards the theatre, 'tis lighted by a
small candle, the light of which is almost lost before you get
half-way down, but near the door - 'tis more for ornament than use:
you see it as a fixed star of the least magnitude; it burns, - but
does little good to the world, that we know of.
In returning along this passage, I discerned, as I approached
within five or six paces of the door, two ladies standing arm-in-
arm with their backs against the wall, waiting, as I imagined, for
a fiacre; - as they were next the door, I thought they had a prior
right; so edged myself up within a yard or little more of them, and
quietly took my stand. - I was in black, and scarce seen.
The lady next me was a tall lean figure of a woman, of about
thirty-six; the other of the same size and make, of about forty:
there was no mark of wife or widow in any one part of either of
them; - they seem'd to be two upright vestal sisters, unsapped by
caresses, unbroke in upon by tender salutations. - I could have
wish'd to have made them happy: - their happiness was destin'd that
night, to come from another quarter.
A low voice, with a good turn of expression, and sweet cadence at
the end of it, begg'd for a twelve-sous piece betwixt them, for the
love of heaven. I thought it singular that a beggar should fix the
quota of an alms - and that the sum should be twelve times as much
as what is usually given in the dark. - They both seemed astonished
at it as much as myself. - Twelve sous! said one. - A twelve-sous
piece! said the other, - and made no reply.
The poor man said, he knew not how to ask less of ladies of their
rank; and bow'd down his head to the ground.
Poo! said they, - we have no money.
The beggar remained silent for a moment or two, and renew'd his
supplication.
- Do not, my fair young ladies, said he, stop your good ears
against me. - Upon my word, honest man! said the younger, we have no
change. - Then God bless you, said the poor man, and multiply those
joys which you can give to others without change! - I observed the
elder sister put her hand into her pocket. - I'll see, said she, if
I have a sous. A sous! give twelve, said the supplicant; Nature
has been bountiful to you, be bountiful to a poor man.
- I would friend, with all my heart, said the younger, if I had it.
My fair charitable! said he, addressing himself to the elder, - what
is it but your goodness and humanity which makes your bright eyes
so sweet, that they outshine the morning even in this dark passage?
and what was it which made the Marquis de Santerre and his brother
say so much of you both as they just passed by?
The two ladies seemed much affected; and impulsively, at the same
time they both put their hands into their pocket, and each took out
a twelve-sous piece.
The contest betwixt them and the poor supplicant was no more; - it
was continued betwixt themselves, which of the two should give the
twelve-sous piece in charity; - and, to end the dispute, they both
gave it together, and the man went away.
THE RIDDLE EXPLAINED. PARIS.
I stepped hastily after him: it was the very man whose success in
asking charity of the women before the door of the hotel had so
puzzled me; - and I found at once his secret, or at least the basis
of it: - 'twas flattery.
Delicious essence! how refreshing art thou to Nature! how strongly
are all its powers and all its weaknesses on thy side! how sweetly
dost thou mix with the blood, and help it through the most
difficult and tortuous passages to the heart!
The poor man, as he was not straiten'd for time, had given it here
in a larger dose: 'tis certain he had a way of bringing it into a
less form, for the many sudden cases he had to do with in the
streets: but how he contrived to correct, sweeten, concentre, and
qualify it, - I vex not my spirit with the enquiry; - it is enough
the beggar gained two twelve-sous pieces - and they can best tell
the rest, who have gained much greater matters by it.
PARIS.
We get forwards in the world, not so much by doing services, as
receiving them; you take a withering twig, and put it in the
ground; and then you water it, because you have planted it.
