ing sign with his hand to me to keep quiet, and peeped again through the hole.
"Come here," he whispered. I approached on tip-toe.
"Look there," he said, and laughed with a quiet, eager laugh. "Peep in! Hi, hi! there they are! Look at the old chap! Can you see the old chap?"
In the bed under the Christ in oleograph I saw two figures, the landlady and the strange sailor: her legs gleamed whitely against the dark coverlid, and in bed against the wall sat her father, the paralysed old man, and looked on, bending over his hands, crouched together as always, without being able to move.
I turned round towards my landlord. He had the greatest trouble to keep himself from laughing out loudly.
"Did you see the old chap?" he whispered. "Ah Lord! did you see the old chap? He is sitting looking on," and he placed himself once more before the keyhole.
I went over to the window, and sat down. This sight had brought all my thoughts into merciless disorder, and put an end to my bright mood. Well, what concern was it of mine? When the husband himself agreed to it, ay,
