The clouds swam overhead in dark masses, and piled
up, one absorbing the other. It was dark, gloomy, and tedious.
Life seemed to be in hiding.
Suddenly the village sergeant galloped up to the square, stopped his
sorrel at the steps of the town hall, and waving his whip in the
air, shouted to the peasant. The shouts rattled against the window
panes, but the words were indistinguishable. The peasant rose and
stretched his hand, pointing to something. The sergeant jumped to
the ground, reeled, threw the reins to the peasant, and seizing the
rails with his hands, lifted himself heavily up the steps, and
disappeared behind the doors of the town hall.
Quiet reigned again. Only the horse struck the soft earth with the
iron of his shoes.
A girl came into the room. A short yellow braid lay on her neck,
her face was round, and her eyes kind. She bit her lips with the
effort of carrying a ragged-edged tray, with dishes, in her
outstretched hands. She bowed, nodding her head.
"How do you do, my good girl?" said the mother kindly.
"How do you do?"
Putting the plates and the china dishes on the table, she announced
with animation:
"They've just caught a thief.
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