By Stephen Crane
An Italian kept a fruit-stand on a corner where he had goodaim at the people who came down from the elevated station，and at those who went along two thronged streets. He sat mostof the day in a backless chair that was placed strategically.
There was a babe living hard by， up five flights of stairs，who regarded this Italian as a tremendous being. The babe hadinvestigated this fruit-stand. It had thrilled him as few thingshe had met with in his travels had thrilled him. The sweets ofthe world had laid there in dazzling rows， tumbled in luxuriousheaps. When he gazed at this Italian seated amid such splendidtreasures， his lower lip hung low and his eyes， raised to thevendor’s face， were filled with deep respect， worship， as if hesaw omnipotence.
The babe came often to this corner. He hovered aboutthe stand and watched each detail of the business. He wasfascinated by the tranquility of the vendor， the majesty ofpower and possession. At times he was so engrossed in hiscontemplation that people， hurrying， had to use care to avoidbumping him down.
He had never ventured very near to the stand. It was hishabit to hang warily about the curb. Even there he resembled ababe who looks unbidden at a feast of gods.
One day， however， as the baby was thus staring， the vendorarose， and going along the front of the stand， began to polishoranges with a red pocket handkerchief. The breathless spectatormoved across the sidewalk until his small face almost touched thevendor’s sleeve. His fingers were gripped in a fold of his dress.
At last， the Italian finished with the oranges and returned tohis chair. He drew a newspaper printed in his language frombehind a bunch of bananas. He settled himself in a comfortableposition， and began to glare savagely at the print. The babewas left face to face with the massed joys of the world. For atime he was a simply worshipper at this golden shrine. Thentumultuous desires began to shake him. His dreams were ofconquest. His lips moved. Presently into his head there camea little plan. He sidled nearer， throwing swift and cunningglances at the Italian. He strove to maintain his conventionalmanner， but the whole plot was written upon his countenance.
At last he had come near enough to touch the fruit. From thetattered skirt came slowly his small dirty hand. His eyes werestill fixed upon the vendor. His features were set， save for theunder lip， which had a faint fluttering movement. The handwent forward.
Elevated trains thundered to the station and the stairwaypoured people upon the side walks. There was a deep searoar from feet and wheels going ceaselessly. None seemed toperceive the babe engaged in a great venture.
The Italian turned his paper. Sudden panic smote the babe.
His hand dropped， and he gave vent to a cry of dismay. Heremained for a moment staring at the vendor. There wasevidently a great debate in his mind. His infant intellect haddefined this Italian. The latter was undoubtedly a man whowould eat babes that provoked him. And the alarm in the babewhen this monarch had turned his newspaper brought vividlybefore him the consequences if he were detected. But at thismoment the vendor gave a blissful grunt， and tilting his chairagainst a wall， closed his eyes. His paper dropped unheeded.
The babe ceased his scrutiny and again raised his hand. Itwas moved with supreme caution toward the fruit. The fingerswere bent， claw-like， in the manner of great heart-shakinggreed. Once he stopped and chattered convulsively， becausethe vendor moved in his sleep. The babe， with his eyes stillupon the Italian， again put forth his hand， and the rapaciousfingers closed over a round bulb.
And it was written that the Italian should at this moment openhis eyes. He glared at the babe a fierce question. Thereuponthe babe thrust the round bulb behind him， and a with a faceexpressive of the deepest guilt， began a wild but elaborate seriesof gestures declaring his innocence. The Italian howled. Hesprang to his feet， and with three steps overtook the babe. Hewhirled him fiercely， and took from the little fingers a lemon.