THE MAN WHO GREW VEGETABLE MARROWS
the old busy days, and the old occupations that he thought himself so glad to leave?”
“Yes,” I said slowly. “I fancy that that is a common enough occurrence. I myself am perhaps an instance. A year ago I came into a legacy—enough to enable me to realize a dream. I have always wanted to travel, to see the world. Well, that was a year ago, as I said, and—I am still here.”
My little neighbor nodded.
“The chains of habit. We work to attain an object, and the object gained, we find that what we miss is the daily toil. And mark you, monsieur, my work was interesting work. The most interesting work there is in the world.”
“Yes?” I said encouragingly. For the moment the spirit of Caroline was strong within me.
“The study of human nature, monsieur!”
“Just so,” I said kindly.
Clearly a retired hairdresser. Who knows the secrets of human nature better than a hairdresser?
“Also, I had a friend—a friend who for many years never left my side. Occasionally of an imbecility to make one afraid, nevertheless he was very dear to me. Figure to yourself that I miss even his stupidity. His naïveté, his honest outlook, the pleasure of delighting and surprising him by my superior gifts—all these I miss more than I can tell you.”
“He died?” I asked sympathetically.
“Not so. He lives and flourishes—but on the other side of the world. He is now in the Argentine.”
“In the Argentine,” I said enviously.
[21]
