Meanwhile, Simon took his foot-bath, and while he did so, his
wicked, malicious eyes now fell upon his wife, who had once been so
cheerful and resolute, and who now had grown so sad and broken, now
upon the boy, who, since yesterday, when his canaries had been taken
from him, had spoken not a word, or made a sound, and who sat
motionless upon the rush-chair, folding his hands in his lap, and
gazing at the place where his dead bird lay yesterday.
"This life would make one crazy," growled Simon, with the tone of a
hyena. "Capet," he cried aloud, "take the towel and warm it at the
chimney-fire, so as to wipe my feet."
Louis rose slowly from his chair, took the towel and crept to the
chimney-fire to spread it out and warm it; but the glow of the coals
burned his little thin hands so badly, that he let the cloth fall
into the fire, and before the trembling, frightened child had time
to draw it back, the towel had kindled and was burning brightly.
Simon uttered a howl of rage, and, as with his feet in the water he
was not able to reach the boy, he heaped curses and abuse upon him,
and not alone on him, but on his father and mother, till his voice
was hoarse, and he was exhausted with this outpouring of his wrath.
Deceived by the quiet which followed, little Louis took another
towel, warmed it carefully at the chimney, and then cautiously
approached his master, to wipe his feet.
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