Little Poems in Prose

with fear. In short, thoughts of the beauty with which I was surrounded filling me as it did with enthusiasm, I felt myself at perfect peace with myself and with the Universe. I even believe that, in my perfect happiness and my total for- getfulness of all terrestrial evil, I had arrived at no longer thinking so ridiculous those newspa- pers which pretend that man is naturally good; when, immedicable matter renewing its impor- tunities, I thought I would repair the ravages of fatigue and quench the appetite caused by so lengthy an ascent. I pulled out of my pocket a big chunk of bread, a leathern cup and a flask containing a certain elixir which chemists at that time were in the habit of selling to tour- ists, to be mingled, as opportunity arose with snow-water. I was calmly cutting up my bread when a very slight noise made me raise my eyes. In front of me was a little ragged, tousled crea- ture whose hollow, fierce, and as it were sup- plicating eyes, devoured the piece of bread, and I heard him sigh in a low, hoarse voice the word “Cake.” I could not prevent myself laugh- ing at the big name by which he dignified my plain bread, and I cut off a large slice for him and offered it to him. Slowly he came near, never letting his eyes leave the object which he coveted; then, snatching the piece with his