g fellow, fresh, elegantly dressed, coming up the hill and
across to the cafe door. My heart fluttered like a little bird in my
breast as I caught sight of him, and I blurted out, without even a
greeting:

"Sixpence, old friend!" I said, putting on cheek; "here is the worth of
it," and I thrust the little packet into his hand.

"Haven't got it," he exclaimed. "God knows if I have!" and he turned
his purse inside out right before my eyes. "I was out last night and
got totally cleared out! You must believe me, I literally haven't got
it."

"No, no, my dear fellow; I suppose it is so," I answered, and I took
his word for it. There was, indeed, no reason why he should lie about
such a trifling matter. It struck me, too, that his blue eyes were
moist whilst he ransacked his pockets and found nothing. I drew back.
"Excuse me," I said; "it was only just that I was a bit hard up." I was
already a piece down the street, when he called after me about the
little packet. "Keep it! keep it," I answered; "you are welcome to it.
There are only a few trifles in it--a bagatelle; about all I own in the
world," and I became so touched at my own words, they sounded so
pathetic in the twilight, that I fell a-weeping....

The wind freshened, the clouds chased madly across the heavens, and it
grew cooler and cooler as it got darker. I walked, and cried as I
walked, down the whole street; felt more and more commiseration with
myself, and repeated, time after time, a few words, an ejaculation,
which called forth fresh tears whenever they were on the point of
ceasing: "Lord God, I feel so wretched! Lord God, I feel so wretched!"

An hour passed; passed with such strange slowness, such weariness. I
spent a long time in Market Street; sat on steps, stole into doorways,
and when any one approached, stood and stared absently into the shops
where people bustled about with wares or money. At last I found myself
a sheltered place, behind a deal hoarding, between the church and the
bazaar.

No; I couldn't go out into the woods again this evening. Things must
take their course. I had not strength enough to go, and it was such an
endless way there. I would kill the night as best I could, and remain
where I was; if it got all too cold, well, I could walk round the
church. I would not in any case worry myself any more about that, and I
leant back and dozed.

The noise around me diminished; the shops closed. The steps of the
pedestrians sounded more