A story higher, I had, through a window, which was concealed by no envious curtain, the view into a brightly lighted room, where a numerous family were assembled round a tea-table covered with cups and bread baskets.

I was stiff in my whole body, from cold and damp.  How empty it was in that part which may be called the magazine, I do not say; but, ah, good Heavens! thought I, if, however, that pretty girl, who over there takes a cop of tea-nectar and rich splendid rusks to that fat gentleman who, from satiety, can hardly raise himself from the sofa, would but reach out her lovely hand a little further, and could—­she would with a thousand kisses—­in vain!—­ ah, the satiated gentleman takes his cup; he steeps and steeps his rusk with such eternal slowness—­it might be wine.  Now the charming girl caresses him.  I am curious whether it is the dear papa himself or the uncle, or, perhaps—­Ah, the enviable mortal!  But no, it is quite impossible; he is at least forty years older than she.  See, that indeed must be his wife—­an elderly lady, who sits near him on the sofa, and who offers rusks to the young lady.  The old lady seems very dignified; but to whom does she go now?  I cannot see the person.  An ear and a piece of a shoulder are all that peep forth near the window.  I cannot exactly take it amiss that the respectable person turns his back to me; but that he keeps the young lady a quarter of an hour standing before him, lets her courtesy and offer her good things, does thoroughly provoke me.  It must be a lady—­a man could not be so unpolite towards this angelic being.  But—­or—­now she takes the cup; and now, oh, woe! a great man’s hand grasps into the rusk-basket—­the savage! and how he helps himself—­the churl!  I should like to know whether it is her brother,—­he was perhaps hungry, poor fellow!  Now come in, one after the other, two lovely children, who are like the sister.  I wonder now, whether the good man with one ear has left anything remaining.  That most charming of girls, how she caresses the little ones, and kisses them, and gives to them all the rusks and the cakes that have escaped the fingers of Monsieur Gobble.  Now she has had herself, the sweet child! of the whole entertainment, no more than me—­the smell.

What a movement suddenly takes place in the room!  The old gentleman heaves himself up from the sofa—­the person with one ear starts forward, and in so doing, gives the young lady a blow (the dromedary!) which makes her knock against the tea-table, whereby the poor lady, who was just about springing up from the sofa, is pushed down again—­the children hop about and clap their hands—­ the door flies open—­a young officer enters—­the young girl throws herself into his arms.  So, indeed!  Aha, now we have it!  I put to my shutters so violently that they cracked, and seated myself on a chair, quite wet through with rain, and with my knees trembling.

What had I to do at the window?  That is what one gets when one is inquisitive.