“Hullo, hullo,” I called to him to come up. At 
the same time I reflected, not without some 
amusement, that my room being on the sixth 
story, and the staircase extremely narrow, that 
the man was bound to find it rather difficult to 
make the ascent, and to catch in many a place 
the corners of his merchandise. 
At last he appeared. Having examined all 
his glasses with curiosity, I said to him: “What, 
you have no coloured glasses?—Rose glasses, 
red glasses, blue glasses, magic glasses, 
glasses of Paradise! You impudent fellow; you 
dare to walk about in the poor quarters of the 
town, and you have not even glasses which 
make life look beautiful!” And I pushed him 
vigorously towards the staircase, where he 
stumbled and swore. 
I went to the balcony and seized a little 
flower-pot; and when the man reappeared in 
the doorway I let fall my engine of war on the 
back edge of his shoulder straps, and the 
shock overthrowing him, he broke beneath his 
back all his poor walking stock-in-trade, which 
uttered the crashing cry of a glass palace split 
by lightning. 
And, drunk with my madness I cried to him 
furiously: “Let life look beautiful, let life look 
beautiful!”