There, where the throng was thickest in the street, I stood with
Pierrot. All eyes were turned on me.
“What are they laughing at?” I asked, but he grinned, dusting the chalk
from my black cloak. “I cannot see; it must be something droll, perhaps
an honest thief!”
All eyes were turned on me.
“He has robbed you of your purse!” they laughed.
“My purse!” I cried; “Pierrot—help! it is a thief!”
They laughed: “He has robbed you of your purse!”
Then Truth stepped out, holding a mirror. “If he is an honest thief,”
cried Truth, “Pierrot shall find him with this mirror!” but he only
grinned, dusting the chalk from my black cloak.
“You see,” he said, “Truth is an honest thief, she brings you back your
mirror.”
All eyes were turned on me.
“Arrest Truth!” I cried, forgetting it was not a mirror but a purse I
lost, standing with Pierrot, there, where the throng was thickest in
the street.