eld me back. He queried:

"But what do you do all day now?"

"Do? I write, naturally. What else should I do? Is it not that I live
by? For the moment, I am working at a great drama, 'The Sign of the
Cross.' Theme taken from the Middle Ages."

"By Jove!" exclaimed "Missy," seriously. "Well, if you succeed with
that, why...."

"I have no great anxiety on that score," I replied. "In eight days'
time or so, I think you and all the folks will have heard a little more
of me."

With that I left him.

When I got home I applied at once to my landlady, and requested a lamp.
It was of the utmost importance to me to get this lamp; I would not go
to bed tonight; my drama was raging in my brain, and I hoped so surely
to be able to write a good portion of it before morning. I put forward
my request very humbly to her, as I had noticed that she made a
dissatisfied face on my re-entering the sitting-room. I said that I had
almost completed a remarkable drama, only a couple of scenes were
wanting; and I hinted that it might be produced in some theatre or
another, in no time. If she would only just render me this great
service now....

But madam had no lamp. She considered a bit, but could not call to mind
that she had a lamp in any place. If I liked to wait until twelve
o'clock, I might perhaps get the kitchen lamp. Why didn't I buy myself
a candle?

I held my tongue. I hadn't a farthing to buy a candle, and knew that
right well. Of course I was foiled again! The servant-girl sat inside
with us--simply sat in the sitting-room, and was not in the kitchen at
all; so that the lamp up there was not even lit. And I stood and
thought over this, but said no more. Suddenly the girl remarked to me:

"I thought I saw you come out of the palace a while ago; were you at a
dinner party?" and she laughed loudly at this jest.

I sat down, took out my papers, and attempted to write something here,
in the meantime. I held the paper on my knees, and gazed persistently
at the floor to avoid being distracted by anything; but it helped not a
whit; nothing helped me; I got no farther. The landlady's two little
girls came in and made a row with the cat--a queer, sick cat that had
scarcely a hair on it; they blew into its eyes until water sprang out
of them and trickled down its nose. The landlord and a couple of others
sat at a table and played _cent et un_. The wife alone was busy as
ever, and sat and sewed at some garment. She saw well that I co