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Locke, William John, 1863-1930

"Simon the Jester"

The dwarf's roundabout route was characteristic of his tortuous
mind. We walked along for some time without saying anything. I could
not find it in my heart to reproach the little man for the expensiveness
(nearly a hundred pounds) of his perilous adventure, and he seemed too
dazed with shame and humiliation to speak. At last, when we reached,
as I anticipated, the Square de la Republique, I patted him on the
shoulder.
"Cheer up, my dear Professor," said I. "We both are acquainted with
nobler things than the ins and outs of gaming-hells."
He reeled to a bench under the palm trees, and bursting into tears, gave
vent to his misery in the most incoherent language ever uttered by man.
I sat beside him and vainly attempted consolation.
"Ah, how mad I am! Ah, how contemptible! I dare not face my beautiful
cats again. I dare not see the light of the sun. I have betrayed my
trust. Accursed be the cards. I, who had my gigantic combination. It is
all gone. Beautiful lady, forgive me. Generous-hearted friend, forgive
me.


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