For,  the  time  was  to  come,  when  the  gaunt  scar'ecrows  of
that  region  should  have  watched  the  lamplighter,  in  their
idleness  and  hunger,  so  long,  as  to  conceive  the  idea  of
improving  on  his  method,  and  hauling  up  men  by  those  ropes
and  pulleys,  to  flare  upon  the  darkness  of  their  condition.
But,  the  time  was  not  come  yet ;  and  every  wind  that  blew


THE  MASTER  OF  THE   WINE-SHOP.  35

over  France  shook  the  rags  of  the  scarecrows  in  vain,  for  the
birds,  fine  of  song  and  feather,  took  no  warning.
The  wine-shop  was  a  corner  shop,  better  than  most  others
in  its  appearance  and  degree,  and  the  master  of  the  wine-
shop had  stood  outside  it,  in  a  yellow  waistcoat  and  green
breeches,  looking  on  at  the  struggle  for  the  lost  wine.  "  It's
not  my  afFair,"  said  he,  with  a  final  shrug  of  the  shoulders.
"The  people  from  the  market  did  it.  Let  .them  bring
another."

There,  his  eyes  happening  to  catch  the  tall  joker  writing
up  his  joke,  he  called  to  him  across  the  way:

"Say,  then,  my  Gaspard,  what  do  you  do  there?"

The  fellow  pointed  to  his  joke  with  immense  significance,
as  is  often  the  way  with  his  tribe.  It  missed  its  mark,  and
completely  failed,  as  is  often  the  way  with  his  tribe  too.
