Heavy forebodings oppressed my breast; melancholy seized hold upon me.
I raised my head…. Before me, between two rows of lofty poplars, the road stretched out into the distance.
Across it, across that same road, a whole little family of sparrows was hopping, hopping boldly, amusingly, confidently!
One of them in particular fairly set his wings akimbo, thrusting out his crop, and twittering audaciously, as though the very devil was no match for him! A conqueror—and that is all there is to be said.
But in the meantime, high up in the sky, was soaring a hawk who, possibly, was fated to devour precisely that same conqueror.
I looked, laughed, shook myself—and the melancholy thoughts instantly fled. I felt daring, courage, a desire for life.
And let my hawk soar over me if he will….
"We will still fight on, devil take it!"
November, 1879.