It was dark; the street lonely and lampless.

We had then a tug for it; and after we had both rolled on the pavement, and with difficulty picked ourselves up, we agreed to walk on more soberly.
"Yes, that's my lace-mender," said I; "and she is to be mine for life--God willing." "God is not willing--you can't suppose it; what business have you to be suited so well with a partner?
And she treats you with a sort of respect, too, and says, 'Monsieur' and modulates her tone in addressing you, actually, as if you were something superior! She could not evince more deference to such a one as I, were she favoured by fortune to the supreme extent of being my choice instead of yours." "Hunsden, you're a puppy.

But you've only seen the title-page of my happiness; you don't know the tale that follows; you cannot conceive the interest and sweet variety and thrilling excitement of the narrative." Hunsden--speaking low and deep, for we had now entered a busier street--desired me to hold my peace, threatening to do something dreadful if I stimulated his wrath further by boasting.

I laughed till my sides ached.

We soon reached his hotel; before he entered it, he said-- "Don't be vainglorious.