And he thought that there was something
strange about selfishness, since it could be so cleverly disguised
that it looked as if no one gave more than he received; for it must be
selfishness, it couldn't be anything else.
They played at forfeits and redeemed every forfeit with kisses, true,
genuine, resounding kisses on the lips; and when the jolly book-keeper
was made to kiss the old oak-tree, his conduct was too absurd for
anything; he embraced and caressed the gnarled trunk as if it had been
a girl whom he had met secretly; everybody shouted with laughter, for
all knew how to do it, although none of them would have liked to be
caught doing it.
The schoolmaster who had begun by watching the spectacle with critical
eyes, fell more and more under the spell of it; he almost believed
himself to be one of the party. He smiled at the sallies of the
shop-assistants, and before an hour was gone the head of the family
had won his whole sympathy. No one could deny that the man was a
comedian of the first rank. He could play "Skin-the-cat"; he could
"walk backwards," "lie" on the tree-trunks, swallow coins, eat fire,
and imitate all sorts of birds. And when he extracted a saffron cake
from the dress of one of the girls and made it disappear in his right
ear, the schoolmaster laughed until his empty inside ached.
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