水手的圣诞礼物 (2/4)

My wife ordered our meal in French. The waiter brought us the wrong thing, I scolded my wife for being stupid. She began to cry.

The boys defended her, and I felt even worse. Then at the table with the French family, on our left, the father slapped one of his children for some minor infraction, and the boy began to cry.

On our right, the German wife began berating her husband. All of us were interrupted by an unpleasant blast of cold air. Through the front door came an old French flower woman.

She wore a dripping, tattered overcoat and shuffled along slowly. " Flowers, monsieur? Only one franc." No one bought any.

Wearily she sat down at a table between the sailor and us. To the waiter she said, " A bowl of soup. I haven't sold a flower all afternoon."

To the piano player she said hoarsely, " Can you imagine, Joseph, soup on Christmas Eve? " He pointed to his empty tipping plate. The young sailor finished his meal and got up to leave.

Putting on his coat, he walked over to the flower woman's table. " Happy Christmas! " he said, smiling, and picking out two corsages, " How much are they? " " Two francs, monsieur."

Pressing one of the small corsages flat, he put it into the letter he had written, then handed the woman a 20-franc note.