The Sly One

In the brown dining-room, which was perfumed with the scent of polish and fruit,

I was shoveling up at my ease a plateful of some Belgian dish or other, and sprawling in my enormous chair.

While I ate,

I listened, happy and silent, to the clock.

The kitchen door opened with a gust, and the servant girl came in,

I don't know what for, neckerchief loose, hair dressed impishly.

And, passing her little finger tremblingly across her cheek, a pink and white peach-bloom, pouting with her childish mouth, she tidied the plates standing close to me, to make me feel comfortable; - and then, just like that, - to get a kiss of course - said very softly: 'Feel, then,

I' got a cold in the cheek…'