Little Poems in Prose

motionless hour which is not marked on clocks, and yet is light as a sigh, swift as a glance. And if some importunate person where to come and disturb me while my gaze rests on this delicious dial, if some false and intolerant spirit, some demon of unlucky accident, were to come and say to me, “What are you looking at with such intensity? What do you seek in the eyes of this being? Do you see there the time? Ah, spend-thrift and do-nothing mortal!” I should reply unhesitatingly “yes, I see the time; it is eternity.” Now, Madam, is not that a really meritori- ous madrigal, and as pompous as yourself? In good sooth, I have taken so much pleasure in embroidering this pretentious piece of gallantry that I shall ask you for nothing in return.