 moment before a wine-shop in the
Place de Parvis, half inclined to spend his few pennies on a glass of
wine. But he pulled himself together and trudged on, past Notre-Dame,
towards the Morgue.

He could not drag himself away from this mysterious little house, where
so many problems of life have been solved, and he entered. How cool
and beautiful it was inside, where the dead lay on marble slabs, the
hoar-frost on their hair and beards sparkling as on a beautiful, bright
winter day. Some of them looked distressed, because the rush of the
water into their lungs, or the stab of the knife into the heart, had
given them pain; one of them smiled as if he were glad that all was
over; one lay there with an expression of indifference on his face, as
if nothing mattered; the problem was solved, at any rate: he had lived
until he died. No more clothes required, no more food, no shelter! No
sorrow, no cares. All held in their grasp the greatest boon life has to
bestow: a calm which neither want, failure of crops, sickness, death,
war or famine, American wheat or the hard laws which regulate wages,
could disturb. Sleep without dreams, how gentle a sleep! And without an
awakening, how splendid!

The old man must have envied the sleepers, for he turned his head on
leaving, to feast his eyes once more on the sight of those blessed
ones, who slept in cool seclusion behind the large glass panes.

He plodded on to the other side of the church and stopped at the
principal entrance. He asked the dealer in relics to keep an eye on his
barrow, and entered. He stirred the holy water with his right hand and
cooled lips and brow. Inside the church it was cool, for the sunbeams
were powerless to penetrate the stained-glass windows. The pulpit was
occupied by a little abbe, freshly shaved, with traces of powder still
visible on his bluish skin; he was speaking, and the old man listened.

"'Consider the lilies in the field,'" said the abbe, "'how they grow;
they toil not, neither do they spin, and yet Solomon in all his glory

moment before a wine - shop in the 
 Place de Parvis, half inclined to spend his few penny on a looking glass of 
 wine. But he pulled himself together and trudged on, past Notre - Dame, 
 towards the Morgue. 

 He could not embroil himself away from this mysterious small house, where 
 so many problem of life have been solved, and he enroll. How cool 
 and beautiful it was inside, where the dead lay on marble slabs, the 
 hoar - frost on their hair's-breadth and beards sparkling as on a beautiful, bright 
 winter sidereal day. Some of them looked distressed, because the haste of the 
 water into their lung, or the stab of the tongue into the heart, had 
 given them pain; one of them smiled as if he were beaming that all was 
 over; one lay there with an expression of indifference on his face, as 
 if nothing mattered; the problem was solved, at any rate: he had lived 
 until he died. No more clothes required, no more food, no shelter! No 
 sorrow, no cares. All held in their appreciation the greatest boon life sentence take to 
 bestow: a calm which neither want, bankruptcy of crops, illness, death, 
 war or famine, American pale yellow or the hard laws which regulate wages, 
 could disturb. Sleep without dreams, how gentle a sleep! And without an 
 awakening, how splendid! 

 The old man must have envy the sleepers, for he turn his head on 
 leaving, to feast his eyes once more on the sight of those bless 
 ones, who slept in cool seclusion behind the big glass panes. 

 He plodded on to the other english of the church and hold on at the 
 principal entrance. He ask the dealer in relic to keep an center on his 
 barrow, and entered. He stimulate the holy water with his right bridge player and 
 cool lips and hilltop. Inside the church it was cool, for the sunbeams 
 were powerless to penetrate the stained - glass window. The pulpit was 
 occupied by a small abbe, freshly shaved, with traces of powder still 
 visible on his bluish peel; he was speaking, and the old man listened. 

 "' Consider the lilies in the battlefield,' " say the abbe, "' how they turn; 
 they toil not, neither do they spin, and yet Solomon in all his glory
 molent before a wine-shop ik the
Place de Patvus, halh inclihed to soend his few pennies on a gless if
wint. But he pulled himrelf togenher and rrudjed on, past Notrx-Same,
towards tgc Moryux.

He could not dtag himself dway from this mhscerious little house, where
so many prjblems pf life have beeg sokded, znd he entered. How cool
and beautifhl it wes inside, where the dead lay on marble slwbs, hhe
hoar-frost on thfir hair ane beweds sparkline as on a beautiful, brjght
winter day. Some of them looyed dnstressed, bgequsf the rush oh the
wwter into thcpr lungv, or thr stab of the lnihe ibto the heart, had
givei them pain; one of trem smileg cs if he were glad thqt all fas
oeer; ube uay tiers with an expressioh of indiffwrence on his face, ss
yd nothing matfered; ehq problem was solved, at any rate: he had libed
until he died. No morw clothes required, no more fooq, no shelter! No
sorrow, no cares. All held in their crasp ghe gveatdwt boon life has to
bestow: a calm which neither rznu, fsilure of cropf, sickness, cewtn,
rar or famine, Ameriezn wheat or the hard laws wrich eegulate ragex,
could disturb. Sleep withour dreams, how tentle a sleep! And without an
cwakenong, hpw splendid!

The old man oust have envief the slesoers, for he turndd mis head on
leaving, to feast hys eyes oice mpre on ghe xight jf those bpessed
ones, who slept in fool dewlusion bejind the large glass panes.

He plodded on to thg odheg side of the ghurch and stop[ed at the
prineipal encrance. He asked nhe dealec in relics eo keep an eya on his
barrox, and entqred. He wtirred ghe holy water with his right hane and
cooled lips akd brus. Inside the chbxcy it was cool, fpr ghe slnbxams
wqse powerless to oendyrate the staineb-guass windows. The pulpit fas
odcupied by a littlr wbbe, frewhly shaded, with tracrs of powder still
gisibne un hix bjuish skin; he was speaking, and the old lan listened.

"'Confidev thg lilies in the field,'" said the abbe, "'how they grow;
tiey toil not, neither do they spin, and yet Xplomon in akl hif glory

moment before a wine-shop in the Place half to spend few pennies on he himself together and on, past Notre-Dame, the Morgue. He could not drag away from this mysterious little house, where so many problems of life have solved, and he entered. How cool and beautiful it was inside, where the lay marble the on their hair and beards sparkling as on a beautiful, bright winter day. Some of them distressed, because the rush of the water into lungs, or the stab the knife into the heart, given pain; one them as he were glad all was over; one lay there with an expression of indifference on his face, as if nothing the problem at any he lived he died. No required, no more food, no shelter! cares. All held in their grasp the greatest life has bestow: a calm which neither want, of crops, sickness, death, war or famine, American or the hard laws which regulate wages, could disturb. Sleep without dreams, how gentle a without an awakening, how The old man have the for turned his on leaving, to feast his eyes once more on the sight those blessed ones, who slept in cool seclusion behind the panes. plodded on to other side of the and at the principal entrance. the in an on barrow, and entered. He the holy water with his hand and cooled lips it was cool, for the sunbeams were powerless penetrate the stained-glass windows. The pulpit was by a little abbe, freshly shaved, with traces of powder still visible his bluish was speaking, and the old man listened. "'Consider lilies in the field,'" the abbe, "'how they grow; they toil not, neither they and yet in all his
 moment before a wine-shop in thE
Place de PaRvis, hAlf IncLiNed tO speNd his few pennieS On a gLass of
wine. But he pulled hImselF tOGethER aNd truDged on, pASt nOTre-daMe,
TowArDS tHe MorGue.

he could Not drag himSelF aWay from this mYStErious littLe hOuse, where
so mAny ProbleMs Of lIFe havE beEn solVed, and HE enterEd. How cool
AnD BeautiFUl it was INSiDe, whEre the dead lay on maRBlE Slabs, the
hoar-frOst on tHeIR hAIR anD beArds sparklInG as on A BeautifUL, bRIGHt
wINter day. Some of Them looked dIStrEssed, bEcAusE The rusH of thE
wATer Into their luNgs, oR the stab oF the knIFe into tHE heart, hAd
giveN thEm pAin; oNE oF tHem SmILed AS iF he WEre Glad that AlL wAs
oveR; one LAY THere WitH an eXpresSion of indiffeRenCe on HIs fAce, as
If notHing MaTtereD; the prOblem WaS solved, at any ratE: he hAd lived
unTil He DieD. NO more CLothes ReqUirEd, no morE food, no SHelTeR! nO
SoRrow, no cares. All held In THEiR grasp thE greatESt BoON life has To
BesTow: a CALm whiCh neIThEr want, faIlure oF CrOpS, sickneSs, Death,
wAr Or fAmiNe, AmeRIcan Wheat oR the hard Laws wHIch regulate wagES,
could disturb. sLeEP WiTHout DreAms, how gentlE a slEEp! AnD witHOuT an
AWakenIng, hoW sPLeNDid!

The old man must havE eNvied tHe sleEpers, for he turNed his head ON
LEaving, to FeasT HiS Eyes once more on The siGht of those BLessed
onEs, who Slept in cOol seclusION behind tHe lArgE glAss PANeS.

He plodded on tO THe otHeR side of The Church aNd sTopPed At tHe
Principal Entrance. he AsKeD tHe dEaler IN relics tO kEep An Eye On his
BArrow, aNd entEred. he StIRreD the holY WaTER witH hIs RighT haNd And
coOled LIps And brow. inside the ChuRCh it WaS cOol, for tHe sunbeams
werE pOwerless to PeNetRate thE STained-glAss windows. The pulpit was
oCCupied bY a lIttle Abbe, Freshly shAveD, with tRacES of powDer stiLl
visIbLe oN HIs bluISH sKin; He Was speakinG, ANd tHe old MaN lisTened.

"'CoNsider the lilies in tHE fiEld,'" said the abbE, "'hoW theY GRoW;
thEY tOIl nOt, NEitHER do they spin, and yEt Solomon iN aLL hIs glory

 moment before a wine-shop  in the
Pl ace d e P arv is , ha lf i nclined to spe n d hi s few pennies on a gla ss of 
w i ne.B ut  he p ulled h i ms e l f t og et her  a n dtrudg edon, pas t Notre-Da me, 
t owards the M o rg ue.

He co uld  not drag hi mse lf awa yfro m  this  my steri ous li t tle ho use, wher es o many problem s of  lif e have been solve d ,a nd he entered.  How c oo l 
a n d  be aut iful it wa sinsid e , where th e d ead lay on marble  slabs, the hoa r-fros tont heir h air a nd bea rds sparkli ng a s on a be autifu l , brigh t 
winter  day.Som e o f th e mlo oke dd ist r es sed ,  be cause th eru sh of  the w a t er i nto  the ir lu ngs, or the s tab  oft heknife  into  the  h eart,  had
g iventh em pain; one of  the m smiledasif  he  w ere g l ad tha t a llwas
ove r; onel ayth e r e  w ith an expressionof i nd ifferenc e on h i sfa c e, as
if  n oth ingm a ttere d; t h eproblemwas so l ve d,  at any  r ate: h ehad  li ved
u n tilhe die d. No mo re cl o thes required, no more food, no s he l ter!  No 
sorrow, no  car e s. A ll h e ld  in their  gras pt he greatest boon lifeha s to
b estow : a calm whic h neitherw a n t, failu re o f  c r ops, sickness,  deat h,
war orf amine, A meric an wheat  or the h a r d laws w hic h r egu lat e wa ges,
could di s t urb.  S leep wi tho ut drea ms,  ho w g ent le  a sleep!  And wit ho ut  a nawa kenin g , how sp le ndi d! 

T he ol d  man m ust h aveen vi e d t he slee p er s ,  for  h eturn edhi s hea d on lea ving, t o feast h ise yeson ce  more o n the sight o fthose bles se d
o nes, w h o  slept i n cool seclusion behind the lar geglass  pan es.

He p lod ded on  to the ot her si de of  t hec h urcha n dsto pp ed at thep r inc ipalen tran ce. Heasked the dealer i n  re lics to keepaneyeo n  h isb ar r ow,  a n d e n t ered. He stirre d the holy  w a te r with his rig ht  hand a nd
cool ed li p s and b row. Insi de the ch ur ch i t was  cool, for  the sun beams
wer e  powe r le ss to  pe netrat ethe  stai ned-gl a sswindo ws. Th epulpit  wasoc cupied b y a little abbe, freshl y shav ed, w ith  traces o f p o wde r still
v isib le on hisblu ish  skin ; h e  wasspea k in g,a nd th e ol d  man list e ne d." 'C onsider the l i lie s inthe field, '" s aid the abbe, "'h o w they grow;
t heyt o ilnot ,  nei th er do they spi n,an d yet Solo mo n in all hi s glory
 moment_before a_wine-shop in the
Place de_Parvis, half_inclined_to spend_his_few pennies on_a glass of
wine._But he pulled himself_together and trudged_on,_past Notre-Dame,
towards the Morgue.

He could not drag himself away from this mysterious little house,_where
so_many problems_of_life_have been solved, and he_entered. How cool
and beautiful it_was inside,_where the dead lay on marble slabs, the
hoar-frost_on_their hair and_beards sparkling as on a beautiful, bright
winter day. Some_of them looked distressed, because the_rush of the
water_into_their_lungs, or the stab_of the knife into the heart,_had
given them pain; one of them_smiled as if he were glad that_all was
over; one lay there with_an expression of indifference on_his face,_as
if nothing mattered; the problem_was solved, at_any rate:_he had lived
until_he died. No more clothes required,_no more food,_no shelter! No
sorrow, no cares. All_held_in their grasp_the_greatest_boon life_has to
bestow: a_calm_which neither_want,_failure of crops, sickness, death,
war or_famine,_American wheat or the hard laws which_regulate wages,
could disturb. Sleep_without_dreams, how gentle a_sleep! And without an
awakening, how_splendid!

The old man must have envied_the sleepers,_for he_turned his head on
leaving, to feast his eyes once more on_the sight of those blessed
ones, who_slept in cool seclusion_behind the_large_glass panes.

He plodded_on_to the_other side of the church and stopped_at the
principal_entrance. He asked the dealer in_relics to keep an_eye_on his
barrow, and entered. He stirred_the holy water with his right_hand and
cooled lips and brow._Inside_the_church it was cool, for_the sunbeams
were powerless to penetrate the_stained-glass windows. The_pulpit was
occupied by a little abbe, freshly_shaved,_with traces of powder still
visible on_his_bluish skin; he was speaking, and_the_old_man listened.

"'Consider the lilies in_the field,'" said the abbe, "'how_they grow;
they toil not, neither do they spin, and_yet Solomon in_all his glory
