I am living
off my fat, as bears do in winter. In truth, I remind myself of an
animal in more ways than one."
And so every one had something to contribute to the conversation about
her--bits which, they said, affection and admiration had kept alive in
their memory.
Each city has its own roads to certain ends, its ways of Calvary, so
to speak. In New Orleans the victim seems ever to walk down Royal
street and up Chartres, or _vice versa_. One would infer so, at least,
from the display in the shops and windows of those thorough-fares.
Old furniture, cut glass, pictures, books, jewelry, lace, china--the
fleece (sometimes the flesh still sticking to it) left on the
brambles by the driven herd. If there should some day be a trump of
resurrection for defunct fortunes, those shops would be emptied in
the same twinkling of the eye allowed to tombs for their rendition of
property.
The old lady must have made that promenade many, many times, to judge
by the samples of her "fat or fleece" displayed in the windows. She
took to hobbling, as if from tired or sore feet.
"It is nothing," in answer to an inquiry. "Made-to-order feet learning
to walk in ready-made shoes: that is all. One's feet, after all, are
the most unintelligent part of one's body." Tea was her abomination,
coffee her adoration; but she explained: "Tea, you know, is so
detestable that the very worst is hardly worse than the very best;
while coffee is so perfect that the smallest shade of impurity is not
to be tolerated.
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