小迎书屋

The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnardby Anatole FrancePart IThe LogDecember 24, 1849.I had put on my slippers and my dressing-gown. I wiped away a tear with which the north wind blowing over the quay had obscured my vision. A bright fire was leaping in the chimney of my study. Ice-crystals, shaped like fern-leaves, were sprouting over the windowpanes and concealed from me the Seine with its bridges and the Louvre of the Valois.I drew up my easy-chair to the hearth, and my table-volante, and took up so