Little Poems in Prose

XXVIII BASE COINAGE AS we moved away from the tobacco shop my friend made a careful partition of his small change. In the left-hand pocket of his waist- coat he slipped small pieces of gold; in the right, silver coins; in the left-hand pocket of his breeches, a lot of coppers, and finally, in the right, a silver two-franc piece which he closely examined. Curious and careful disposition, said I to myself. We met a poor man who, trembling, held out to us his cap—I know nothing more disqui- eting than the dumb eloquence of these be- seeching eyes, which contain, for the sensitive man who understands how to read therein, both so much humility, and so much reproach. There is therein something approaching this depth of complex sentiment in the watery eyes of whipped dogs. My friend’s alms were much more consid- erable than my own, and I said to him, “You are right; after the pleasure of being aston-