was being revealed to me that babies, whatever their other
qualifications, were exquisitely complicated nuisances.

Yet an Arab, I told myself, refuses to step on a piece of paper, lest
upon it might be written the name of the Deity, while some Hindoos carry
little brooms and sweep the path before them, that they may not tread
upon one of Buddha's creatures. Who knows whether divinity does not
leave its signature on every infant, and who can reasonably doubt that
infinite goodness possesses an equity in prospective men and women.
Shall I be less civil than a sand-washed Bedouin or the monk of a
Benares shrine? It behooves me to welcome a chance to acquire merit by
showing patience.

The book I held was as charming as ever, of course, but since I knew the
story by heart I dropped it on my knees and waged a losing fight against
a fly, which persisted in perching itself on my brow. Before me flitted
the idea that a skull-cap made of sticky fly-paper might be patentable
and sell by the million, combining protection and revenge; I must look
into the matter. Finally hunger troubled me and I decided to go out for
refreshment. Before my neighbor's door I stopped for an instant, my eyes
seeking to penetrate the dimness. Eulalie came to me at once and began
to whisper.

"Would Monsieur be so very kind as to remain here for a few moments and
watch?" she said. "I am going to run over to my sister's and tell her to
buy a chicken and make broth. It will be very good for our poor, dear
lady. In ten minutes I will be back."

Man's freedom of action is apparently a mere academic concept.
Theoretically, I was entirely at liberty to refuse, to look down upon
this woman from the superior height of my alleged intellectuality and
inform her that my soul craved for an immediate glass of iced tea and
some poached eggs on toast. I could have asserted that I did not purpose
to allow myself to be bulldozed by an infant seven hours and ten minutes
old. As a matter of fact, I was helpless and consented, Eulalie shaking
the stairs during her cautious, down-ward progress. It was with some of
the feelings of an apprentice in the art of lion-taming that I entered
the room. Would the proceeding be tranquil and dignified, or accompanied
by roars?

I sat down upon the rocker just vacated by Eulalie and gazed on the
horsehair sofa as if the package resting on it were explosive, with a
fuse alight. I had feared that it would be thrust upon my lap, but