第18章 痛苦的根源（第2页）
Howmuchayear，sir？
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saidthemerrycobblerlaughing，
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Ineverreckoninthatway，livingasIdofromonedaytoanother；somehowImanagetoreachtheendoftheyear；eachdaybringsitsmeal。
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Wellthen！
Howmuchadaydoyouearn，myfriend？
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Sometimesmore，sometimesless；buttheworstofitis，and，withoutthatourearningswouldbeverytolerable，anumberofdaysoccurintheyearonwhichweareforbiddentowork；andthecurate，moreover，isconstantlyaddingsomenewsainttothelist。
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Thebanker，laughingathissimlicity，said，
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InthefutureIshalllaceyouabovewant。
Takethishundredcrowns，reservethemcarefully，andmakeuseofthemintimeofneed。
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Thecobblerfanciedhebeheldallthewealthwhichtheearthhadroducedintheastcenturyfortheuseofmankind。
Returninghome，heburiedhismoneyandhishainessatthesametime。
Nomoresinging；helosthisvoice，themomentheacquiredthatwhichisthesourceofsomuchgrief。
Sleequittedhisdwelling；andcares，susicions，andfalsealarmstookitslace。
Allday，hiseyewanderedinthedirectionofthetreasure；andatnight，ifsomestraycatmadeanoise，thecatwasrobbinghim。
Atlengththeoormanrantothehouseofhisrichneighbor；
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Givemeback，
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saidhe，
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sleeandmyvoice，andtakeyourhundredcrowns。
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