"Well, will you eat?"

"And you?" said the child, trembling all over, and with tears in his
eyes. "You will have nothing!"

"Will you be kind enough to eat it all up, you cub? There is not too
much for you, since there was not enough for me."

The child took up his fork, but did not eat.

"Eat," shouted Ursus. "What has it got to do with me? Who speaks of me?
Wretched little barefooted clerk of Penniless Parish, I tell you, eat it
all up! You are here to eat, drink, and sleep--eat, or I will kick you
out, both of you."

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!"