Good-bye, good-bye,
old hat!"
At the end of this affecting appeal the German rose. He went to the box at
the foot of his bed; out of it he took a black hat, which had evidently
been seldom worn and carefully preserved.
"It's not exactly what you may have been accustomed to," he said nervously,
putting it down beside the battered chimneypot, "but it might be of some
use--a protection to the head, you know."
"My friend," said Bonaparte, "you are not following my advice; you are
allowing yourself to be reproached on my account. Do not make yourself
unhappy. No; I shall go bare-headed."
"No, no, no!" cried the German energetically. "I have no use for the hat,
none at all. It is shut up in the box."
"Then I will take it, my friend. It is a comfort to one's own mind when
you have unintentionally injured any one to make reparation. I know the
feeling. The hat may not be of that refined cut of which the old one was,
but it will serve, yes, it will serve. Thank you," said Bonaparte,
adjusting it on his head, and then replacing it on the table. "I shall lie
down now and take a little repose," he added; "I much fear my appetite for
supper will be lost."
"I hope not, I hope not," said the German, reseating himself at his work,
and looking much concerned as Bonaparte stretched himself on the bed and
turned the end of the patchwork quilt over his feet.
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