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The boy, under this menace, began to eat again. He had not much trouble
in finishing what was left in the porringer. Ursus muttered, "This
building is badly joined. The cold comes in by the window pane." A pane
had indeed been broken in front, either by a jolt of the caravan or by a
stone thrown by some mischievous boy. Ursus had placed a star of paper
over the fracture, which had become unpasted. The blast entered there.
He was half seated on the chest. The infant in his arms, and at the same
time on his lap, was sucking rapturously at the bottle, in the happy
somnolency of cherubim before their Creator, and infants at their
mothers' breast.
"
She is drunk," said Ursus; and he continued, "After this, preach
sermons on temperance!"
The wind tore from the pane the plaster of paper, which flew across the
hut; but this was nothing to the children, who were entering life anew.
Whilst the little girl drank, and the little boy ate, Ursus grumbled,--
"Drunkenness begins in the infant in swaddling clothes. What useful
trouble Bishop Tillotson gives himself, thundering against excessive
drinking. What an odious draught of wind! And then my stove is old. It
allows puffs of smoke to escape enough to give you trichiasis. One has
the inconvenience of cold, and the inconvenience of fire. One cannot see
clearly. That being over there abuses my hospitality. Well, I have not
been able to distinguish the animal's face yet. Comfort is wanting
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