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I
am
sitting
working
at
a
most
crucial
point
in
this
Allegory
of
a
Conflagration
in
a
Bookshop
.
It
appears
to
me
so
momentous
a
point
,
that
all
the
rest
I
have
written
counted
as
nothing
in
comparison
.
I
was
,
namely
,
just
about
to
weave
in
,
in
a
downright
profound
way
,
this
thought
.
It
was
not
books
that
were
burning
,
it
was
brains
,
human
brains
;
and
I
intended
to
make
a
perfect
Bartholomew
's
night
of
these
burning
brains
.
Suddenly
my
door
was
flung
open
with
a
jerk
and
in
much
haste
;
my
landlady
came
sailing
in
.
She
came
straight
over
to
the
middle
of
the
room
,
she
did
not
even
pause
on
the
threshold
.
I
gave
a
little
hoarse
cry
;
it
was
just
as
if
I
had
received
a
blow
.
"
What
?
"
said
she
,
"
I
thought
you
said
something
.
We
have
got
a
traveller
,
and
we
must
have
this
room
for
him
.
You
will
have
to
sleep
downstairs
with
us
tonight
.
Yes
;
you
can
have
a
bed
to
yourself
there
too
.
"
And
before
she
got
my
answer
,
she
began
,
without
further
ceremony
,
to
bundle
my
papers
together
on
the
table
,
and
put
the
whole
of
them
into
a
state
of
dire
confusion
.
My
happy
mood
was
blown
to
the
winds
;
I
stood
up
at
once
,
in
anger
and
despair
.
I
let
her
tidy
the
table
,
and
said
nothing
,
never
uttered
a
syllable
.
She
thrust
all
the
papers
into
my
hand
.
There
was
nothing
else
for
me
to
do
.
I
was
forced
to
leave
the
room
.
And
so
this
precious
moment
was
spoilt
also
.
I
met
the
new
traveller
already
on
the
stairs
;
a
young
man
with
great
blue
anchors
tattooed
on
the
backs
of
his
hands
.
A
quay
porter
followed
him
,
bearing
a
sea-chest
on
his
shoulders
.
He
was
evidently
a
sailor
,
a
casual
traveller
for
the
night
;
he
would
therefore
not
occupy
my
room
for
any
lengthened
period
.
Perhaps
,
too
,
I
might
be
lucky
tomorrow
when
the
man
had
left
,
and
have
one
of
my
moments
again
;
I
only
needed
an
inspiration
for
five
minutes
,
and
my
essay
on
the
conflagration
would
be
completed
.
Well
,
I
should
have
to
submit
to
fate
.
I
had
not
been
inside
the
family
rooms
before
,
this
one
common
room
in
which
they
all
lived
,
both
day
and
night
--
the
husband
,
wife
,
wife
's
father
,
and
four
children
.
The
servant
lived
in
the
kitchen
,
where
she
also
slept
at
night
.
I
approached
the
door
with
much
repugnance
,
and
knocked
.
No
one
answered
,
yet
I
heard
voices
inside
.
The
husband
did
not
speak
as
I
stepped
in
,
did
not
acknowledge
my
nod
even
,
merely
glanced
at
me
carelessly
,
as
if
I
were
no
concern
of
his
.
Besides
,
he
was
sitting
playing
cards
with
a
person
I
had
seen
down
on
the
quays
,
with
the
by-name
of
"
Pane
o
'
glass
.
"
An
infant
lay
and
prattled
to
itself
over
in
the
bed
,
and
an
old
man
,
the
landlady
's
father
,
sat
doubled
together
on
a
settle-bed
,
and
bent
his
head
down
over
his
hands
as
if
his
chest
or
stomach
pained
him
.
His
hair
was
almost
white
,
and
he
looked
in
his
crouching
position
like
a
poke-necked
reptile
that
sat
cocking
its
ears
at
something
.
