Today's Stichomancy for Franz Kafka

"you were to call unexpectedly, the bad luck which pursues the innocent would most likely make you hit on a washing-day, and the distracted mistress of the house would keep you waiting in the cold room so long while she changed her dress, that you would begin to fear you were to be left to perish from want and hunger; and when she did appear, would show by the bitterness of her welcoming smile the rage that was boiling in her heart."

"But what has the mistress of the house to do with washing? "

"What has she to do with washing? Oh, you sweet innocent-- pardon my familiarity, but such ignorance of country-life customs is very touching in one who is writing a book about them. "

"Oh, I have no doubt I am very ignorant," said Minora loftily.

Elizabeth and her German Garden

money to the newspapers than those of any half-dozen vendors of pills or sugarplums,--the author, moreover, of an essay on hats.

"My dear fellow," said Bixiou to Gazonal, pointing to the splendors of the show-window, "Vital has forty thousand francs a year from invested property."

"And he stays a hatter!" cried the Southerner, with a bound that almost broke the arm which Bixiou had linked in his.

"You shall see the man," said Leon. "You need a hat and you shall have one gratis."

"Is Monsieur Vital absent?" asked Bixiou, seeing no one behind the desk.

this morning, and stumbled on the hut. He asked me in, but I came right over after you."

The fisherman, having succeeded in getting the last crab in the kettle of boiling water, came forward smiling and began to explain the curios.

"Then you have not always lived at Pass Christian," said Philip.

"Mais non, monsieur, I am spending a summer here."

"And he spends his winters, doubtless, selling fish in the French market," spitefully soliloquised Philip.

The fisherman was looking unutterable things into Annette's eyes, and, it seemed to Philip, taking an unconscionably long time

The Goodness of St. Rocque and Other Stories

he said--"that notion that the pastorate kept a devil's advocate on the premises. No, Mr. Ware, I don't live here. I inhabit a house of my own--you may have seen it-- an old-fashioned place up beyond the race-course, with a sort of tower at the back, and a big garden. But I dine here three or four times a week. It is an old arrangement of ours. Vincent and I have been friends for many years now. We are quite alone in the world, we two--much to our mutual satisfaction. You must come up and see me some time; come up and have a look over the books we were speaking of."

The Damnation of Theron Ware