[Pg 21]

CHAPTER II. MISKA THE BEGGAR BOY.

MISKA THE BEGGAR BOY.

The beggar boy stopped for a moment to roll the purse up carefully in a rag, and to put it and the letter away in the pocket of his dilapidated old jacket. This done he ran on again quickly.

But he was hungry, desperately hungry, famishing—his eyes were starting out of his head; and though he had been much cheered by the liberal present he had received, a good hunch of bread would really have been worth a hundred times as much to him just at this moment. He could think of nothing but the nearest wayside inn.

People who have never known what it is to be more than just hungry enough to have a good appetite, have no idea what the pangs of hunger are, nor what keen pain it is to be actually starving.

Never in his life had he felt such an intense craving as he did now for a plate of hot food and a[Pg 22] draught of good wine. He had to summon up all his failing strength, or he would have been quite exhausted before he caught sight of the first roof away in the distance. But when he did catch sight of it, though it was still far off, it put new life into him; and as he hurried on, he could think of nothing but the meal he was going to have. What a sumptuous dinner he gave himself in imagination! It was like a dream without an end, too good to be believed.

[Pg 22]

At last he stood before the little inn. The chimney was smoking away merrily, and his mouth positively watered as he turned towards the signboard.

All at once, however, he came to a dead halt, struck by a sudden thought.

For a few moments his feet seemed to be rooted to the ground; then he muttered to himself, "Didn't that good gentleman, who has made a rich man of me, say that the business he entrusted me with was of importance, and that he was in a hurry about it? This is the first important thing I have ever been trusted with; and the gentleman was so honourable, and put such confidence in me, and I want to sit down to a feast! It is six months since a drop of wine has touched my lips, and the devil never goes to sleep: I might drink myself as drunk as a dog!"

[Pg 23]His right foot was still turned towards the inn, and his eyes were adoringly fixed on the beautiful blue smoke issuing from the chimney. He felt 

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