“There is no reason for complaining, madam, I have such a good guide, such a brave little comrade!”
He made an almost theatrical gesture, and said, in a voice filled with emotion:
“My dog!”
“Does he guide you through the streets of Marseilles?”
“He does!”
“And no accident happens to you?”
“Never. One day I was crossing a street. My dog pulled at me so hard from behind that I fell backward. I was just in time. A step more and I should have been crushed by a tramcar, which grazed me. I am mighty lucky, come now, to have a dog like that.”
In all circumstances this old man was willing to see only the favourable side of things. That side, at least with the eyes of imagination, the blind man could see.
One day the charwoman who came to our house at Passy to help the servants arrived very late.
As she was ordinarily exceedingly punctual, I reproached her in a way I should not have done if she had been habitually unpunctual. Here is what I found out about this brave woman.