Page:The Bohemians of the Latin Quarter.djvu/123
is a little Siberia here. I am so cold, that I make a thermometer go down below zero by just looking at it.”
“What! you’ve used up one faggot already?”
“Allow me to remark again, uncle, there are different kinds of faggots, and yours was the very smallest kind.”
“I’ll send you an economic log[1]—that keeps the heat.”
“Exactly, and doesn’t give any.”
“Well,” said the uncle as he went off, “you shall have a little faggot, and I must have my chapter on stoves for to-morrow.”
“When I have fire, that will inspire me,’ answered the Turk as he heard himself locked in.
Were we making a tragedy, this would be the time to bring in a confidant. Noureddin or Osman he should be called, and he should advance towards our hero with an air at the same time discreet and patronizing,
By means of these three verses:
Why sits this pallor on your noble brow?
Does Allah lend your plans no helping hand?
Or cruel Ali, with severe command,
Remove to other shores the beauteous dame,
Who charmed your eyes and set your heart on flame!”
But we are not making a tragedy, so we must do without our confidant, though he would be very convenient.
Our hero is not what he appears to be. The turban does not make the Turk. This young man is our friend Rodolphe, entertained by his uncle, for whom he is drawing up a manual of “The Perfect Chimney-Constructor.” In
- ↑ These economic logs made of some sort of composition, consume very gradually, and take up much of the room which might otherwise be occupied by more perishable fuel. What addition they make to the heat of the room is a matter of opinion.—Trans.