A few sticks were burning in the wide,
old-fashioned fireplace, but the flames looked pale under the bright
light that streamed down upon them through the broad, straight flue. The
pot that hung from the clumsy iron crane was boiling sleepily, and if
the curious visitor could have peeped into it he would have seen that
the little cabbage bed in the garden had contributed of its produce to
the pot-au-feu. An old black cat was sitting as close to the fire as he
could without singeing his whiskers, and gravely watching the simmering
pot with longing eyes. His ears had been closely cropped, and he had
not a vestige of a tail, so that he looked like one of those grotesque
Japanese chimeras that everybody is familiar with. Upon the table, near
at hand, a white plate, a tin drinking cup, and a china dish, bearing
the family arms stamped in blue, were neatly arranged, evidently in
readiness for somebody's supper. For a long time the cat remained
perfectly motionless, intently watching the pot which had almost ceased
to boil as the fire got low, and the silence continued unbroken; but
at last a slow, heavy step was heard approaching from without, and
presently the door opened to admit an old man, who looked half peasant,
half gentleman's servant.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25