六点钟，我们在等咖啡，等咖啡和从某个阳台端上来的面包屑——像古代的国王一样，或者像奇迹一样。天还是黑的。太阳的一英尺落在河上长长的波纹上。今天的第一艘渡船刚刚渡过河。天气太冷了，我们希望咖啡会很热，因为太阳不会温暖我们。每个面包屑都变成了一条面包，涂上了黄油，真是奇迹。七点钟，一个男人走到阳台上。他一个人在阳台上站了一会儿，越过我们的头顶望着那条河。一个仆人递给他创造奇迹的材料，只有一杯咖啡和一个面包卷，他开始揉碎，他的头，可以说，在云里——和太阳一起。那人疯了吗? What under the sun was he trying to do, up there on his balcony! Each man received one rather hard crumb, which some flicked scornfully into the river, and, in a cup, one drop of the coffee. Some of us stood around, waiting for the miracle. I can tell what I saw next; it was not a miracle. A beautiful villa stood in the sun and from its doors came the smell of hot coffee. In front, a baroque white plaster balcony added by birds, who nest along the river, --I saw it with one eye close to the crumb-- and galleries and marble chambers. My crumb my mansion, made for me by a miracle, through ages, by insects, birds, and the river working the stone. Every day, in the sun, at breakfast time I sit on my balcony with my feet up, and drink gallons of coffee. We licked up the crumb and swallowed the coffee. A window across the river caught the sun as if the miracle were working, on the wrong balcony.