Голод

           Isatandlaughedatthistrick,rubbedmyhandswithglee,andsworewithrollickingrecklessness.Whatadisappointmenthewillget,thedog!Wouldn’tthispieceofvillainymakehiminclinedtosinkintohell’shottestpooloftorment!Iwasdrunkwithstarvation;myhungerhadmademetipsy.

           Afewminuteslaterthepolicemancomesby,clinkinghisironheelsonthepavement,peeringonallsides.Hetakeshistime;hehasthewholenightbeforehim;hedoesnotnoticethepaperbag—nottillhecomesquiteclosetoit.Thenhestopsandstaresatit.Itlookssowhiteandsofullasitliesthere;perhapsalittlesum—what?Alittlesumofsilvermoney?...andhepicksitup.Hum...itislight—verylight;maybeanexpensivefeather;somehattrimming....Heopeneditcarefullywithhisbighands,andlookedin.Ilaughed,laughed,slappedmythighs,andlaughed,likeamaniac.Andnotasoundissuedfrommythroat;mylaughterwashushedandfeverishtotheintensityoftears.

           Clink,clinkagainoverthepaving-stones,andthepolicemantookaturntowardsthelanding-stage.Isatthere,withtearsinmyeyes,andhiccoughedforbreath,quitebesidemyselfwithfeverishmerriment.Icommencedtotalkaloudtomyselfallaboutthecornet,imitatedthepoorpoliceman’smovements,peepedintomyhollowhand,andrepeatedoverandoveragaintomyself,"Hecoughedashethrewitaway—hecoughedashethrewitaway.