These words, then, were my glimmer of light; it was here I found my sole outlet; and in truth, though the cold light roused, it did not cheer me; nor did the outlet seem such as I should like to pass through.

Right I had none to M.Vandenhuten's good offices; it was not on the ground of merit I could apply to him; no, I must stand on that of necessity: I had no work; I wanted work; my best chance of obtaining it lay in securing his recommendation.

This I knew could be had by asking for it; not to ask, because the request revolted my pride and contradicted my habits, would, I felt, be an indulgence of false and indolent fastidiousness.

I might repent the omission all my life; I would not then be guilty of it.
That evening I went to M.Vandenhuten's; but I had bent the bow and adjusted the shaft in vain; the string broke.

I rang the bell at the great door (it was a large, handsome house in an expensive part of the town); a manservant opened; I asked for M.Vandenhuten; M.Vandenhuten and family were all out of town--gone to Ostend--did not know when they would be back.