Explore "Waiter, a "Bock"" by Guy de Maupassant on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Why did I go into that beer hall on that particular evening? I do not know. It was cold; a fine rain, a flying mist, veiled the gas lamps with a transparent fog, made the sidewalks reflect the light that streamed from the shop windows, lighting up the soft slush and the muddy feet of the passersby.
I was going nowhere in particular; was simply having a short walk after dinner. I had passed the Crédit Lyonnais, the Rue Vivienne, and several other streets. I suddenly perceived a large beer hall which was more than half full. I walked inside, with no object in view. I was not the least thirsty.