there was not, to tell the truth, any longer the 
bone of contention. The piece of bread had 
disappeared, and was scattered in crumbs like 
the grains of sand with which it was mingled. 
This sight hard darkened the landscape for 
me, and the calm joy, in which my soul danced 
before it saw these miniatures of men, had 
vanished utterly. On that account I remained 
sad for a long while, saying to myself over and 
over again, “There is then a sublime country 
where bread is called cake, and is so rare a 
delicacy that it may beget war between broth-
ers.”