I had gone a few paces away from the shop when the shop-door was torn open, and the boy called after me. I turned round without any astonishment, without a trace of fear; I only collected the money into my hand, and prepared to give it back.
"Beg pardon, you've forgotten your candle," says the boy.
"Ah, thanks," I answered quietly. "Thanks, thanks"; and I strolled on, down the street, bearing it in my hand.
My first sensible thought referred to the money. I went over to a lamp- post, counted it, weighed it in my hand, and smiled. So, in spite of all, I was helped--extraordinarily, grandly, incredibly helped--helped for a long, long time; and I thrust my hand with the money into my pocket, and walked on.
Outside an eating-house in Grand Street I stopped, and turned over in my mind, calmly and quietly, if I should venture so soon to take a little refreshment. I could hear the rattle of knives and plates inside, and the sound of meat being pounded. The temptation was too strong for me--I entered.
"A helping of beef," I say.
"One beef!" calls the waitress down through the door to the lift.
I sat down by myself at a little table next to the door, and prepared to wait. It was somewhat dark where I was sitting, and I felt tolerably well concealed, and set myself to have a serious think. Every now and then the waitress glanced over at me inquiringly. My first downright dishonesty was accomplished--my first theft. Compared to this, all my earlier escapades were as nothing--my first great fall.... Well and good! There was no help for it. For that matter, it was open to me to settle it with the shopkeeper later on, on a more opportune occasion. It need not go any farther with me. Besides that, I had not taken upon myself to live more honourably than all the other folk; there was no contract that....
"Do you think that beef will soon be here?"
"Yes; immediately"; the waitress opens the trapdoor, and looks down into the kitchen.