Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - The Auction at Björne
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the titmouse continues to tap and the queen to send
forth her doorkeepers, and they all disappear. No
one returns to tell her who is tapping. Ugh! it is
awful to be alone in the dark hive—the spirit of
revenge is there. Oh, to be without ears! If one
only felt no curiosity, if one could only wait in
patience!
Melchior Sinclaire laughed till tears filled his
eyes at the silly womenkind in the beehive and the
sharp, greeny-yellow little rascal outside.
There is no great difficulty in waiting when you
are sure of your object, and when there is so much
to engage your thoughts.
There comes the big yard dog. He steps along
on the tips of his toes, keeps his eyes on the ground,
and wags his tail gently, as if he were on the most
indifferent errand. Suddenly he begins digging in
the snow. The old rascal has certainly buried stolen
goods there; but just as he lifts his head to see if
he can enjoy in peace, he is surprised to see two
magpies sitting right before him.
“You thief!” cry the magpies, looking like
conscience itself, “we are police constables; give up
your booty.”
“Silence! you rabble, I am the yard bailiff.”
“Just the man,” they sneer.
The dog springs at them, and they fly up with
lazy wing. He rushes on, jumping and barking;
but while he hunts one, the other has returned to
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