- I Beg Pardon, Said Eugenius Drily:
Really I Had Forgot That Resource.
Now the event I treated gaily came seriously to my door.
Is it folly, or nonchalance, or philosophy, or pertinacity - or what
is it in me, that, after all, when La Fleur had gone down stairs,
and I was quite alone, I could not bring down my mind to think of
it otherwise than I had then spoken of it to Eugenius?
- And as for the Bastile; the terror is in the word. - Make the most
of it you can, said I to myself, the Bastile is but another word
for a tower; - and a tower is but another word for a house you can't
get out of. - Mercy on the gouty! for they are in it twice a year. -
But with nine livres a day, and pen and ink, and paper, and
patience, albeit a man can't get out, he may do very well within, -
at least for a mouth or six weeks; at the end of which, if he is a
harmless fellow, his innocence appears, and he comes out a better
and wiser man than he went in.
I had some occasion (I forget what) to step into the court-yard, as
I settled this account; and remember I walk'd down stairs in no
small triumph with the conceit of my reasoning. - Beshrew the sombre
pencil! said I, vauntingly - for I envy not its powers, which paints
the evils of life with so hard and deadly a colouring.
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