Midnight
I looked after him from the window as he went down the street . ` Your widow , with her twelve hundred a year , ' I thought to myself , ` might take a box at the San Carlo whenever she pleased , without being beholden to anybody . ' The empty-headed wretch whistled as he went his way to the theater , and tossed his loose silver magnificently to every beggar who ran after him . '' * * * * * `` Midnight . -- I am alone again at last . Have I nerve enough to write the history of this terrible evening , just as it has passed ? I have nerve enough , at any rate , to turn to a new leaf , and try . ''