" And they would call out of their doors and windows to him
passing:
"Hola! old man Cethru! All's well with our house, and with the street
before it?"
But, for answer, the old man only held his lanthorn up, so that in the
ring of its pale light they saw some sight or other in the street. And
his silence troubled them, one by one, for each had expected that he
would reply:
"Aye, aye! All's well with your house, Sirs, and with the street before
it!"
Thus they grew irritated with this old man who did not seem able to do
anything but just hold his lanthorn up. And gradually they began to
dislike his passing by their doors with his pale light, by which they
could not fail to see, not only the rich-carved frontages and scrolled
gates of courtyards and fair gardens, but things that were not pleasing
to the eye. And they murmured amongst themselves: "What is the good of
this old man and his silly lanthorn? We can see all we want to see
without him; in fact, we got on very well before he came."
So, as he passed, rich folk who were supping would pelt him with
orange-peel and empty the dregs of their wine over his head; and poor
folk, sleeping in their hutches, turned over, as the rays of the lanthorn
fell on them, and cursed him for that disturbance. Nor did revellers or
footpads treat the old man, civilly, but tied him to the wall, where he
was constrained to stay till a kind passerby released him.
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