IX
THE FIRE
15th of August.
I can hardly bear to tell of what happened today, and I feel as if I could never really reconcile myself to it; but as I always say, "Cheer up, Colas! a brave heart will carry you through everything."
I have often heard it said that summer's rain gives no pain; but you would agree that it gives no gain, either, if you could see me after a season when one storm after another has beat on my devoted head; here I am without shoes or shirt to cover me,—but let me tell you all about it.—I was just pulling myself together after a double trial, you remember? lodie had been cured of the croup and my poor wife of all the troubles of this world; when a fresh blow fell on me at the hands, I suppose, of the heavenly powers,—unless there is some woman up there who has a grudge against me?—but this time I am stripped to the skin, and glad enough to have that left on my bones. I had been in no hurry to come home while Glodie was recovering from her illness; a child's convalescence is so charming!
