What an insignificant trifle may sometimes transform the whole man!
Full of melancholy thought, I walked one day along the highroad.
My heart was oppressed by a weight of gloomy apprehension; I was
overwhelmed by dejection. I raised my head.... Before me, between two rows
of tall poplars, the road darted like an arrow into the distance.
And across it, across this road, ten paces from me, in the golden light of
the dazzling summer sunshine, a whole family of sparrows hopped one after
another, hopped saucily, drolly, self-reliantly!
One of them, in particular, skipped along sideways with desperate energy,
puffing out his little bosom and chirping impudently, as though to say he
was not afraid of any one! A gallant little warrior, really!
And, meanwhile, high overhead in the heavens hovered a hawk, destined,
perhaps, to devour that little warrior.
I looked, laughed, shook myself, and the mournful thoughts flew right away:
pluck, daring, zeal for life I felt anew. Let him, too, hover over me, _my_
hawk.... We will fight on, and damn it all!
_November 1879._