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Stevenson, Robert Louis

"The Wrecker"

I pocketed the money
carelessly, lingered a while chaffing, strolled
leisurely to the door; and then (fast as my trembling
legs could carry me) round the corner to the Cafe de
Cluny. French waiters are deft and speedy; they were
not deft enough for me: and I had scarce decency to let
the man set the wine upon the table or put the butter
alongside the bread, before my glass and my mouth were
filled. Exquisite bread of the Cafe Cluny, exquisite
first glass of old Pomard tingling to my wet feet,
indescribable first olive culled from the HORS
D'OEUVRE--I suppose, when I come to lie dying, and the
lamp begins to grow dim, I shall still recall your
savour. Over the rest of that meal, and the rest of
the evening, clouds lie thick; clouds perhaps of
Burgundy: perhaps, more properly, of famine and
repletion.
I remember clearly, at least, the shame, the despair,
of the next morning, when I reviewed what I had done,
and how I had swindled the poor honest porter: and, as
if that were not enough, fairly burnt my ships, and
brought bankruptcy home to that last refuge, my garret.


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