Little Poems in Prose

“I remembered everything, as you see. By and by they each drank a glass of brandy and went to sleep, their foreheads turned up to the stars. I wanted so much to ask them to take me away with them and teach me to play on their instruments, but I did not dare; no doubt because it is always very difficult to decide to do anything, whatever it is, and also because I was afraid of being caught before getting out- side France.” His three comrades showed little interest, which gave me to think “This little fellow is al- ready an unintelligible.” I looked at him atten- tively; in his eye and upon his brow there sate some precocious hint of doom, a thing which generally disarms, so to say, and which, I know not why, excited me to the point that for an instant I had a bizarre idea that I might have a brother unknown to myself. The sun was set. The solemn night was fal- ling; the children parted, each one going, un- known to himself, the prey of chance and cir- cumstance, to ripen his destiny, to scandalize his neighbours, to gravitate towards glory or towards shame.