camps. I know all about it." And then he continued: "Have you any
papers?" "Yes, I have some." "Give them to me."

Randel took his papers out of his pockets; his certificates, those poor
worn-out, dirty papers which were falling to pieces, and gave them to
the soldier, who spelled them through, hemming and hawing and then
having seen that they were all in order, he gave them back to Randel
with the dissatisfied look of a man whom someone cleverer than himself
has tricked.

After a few moments' further reflection, he asked him: "Have you any
money on you?" "No." "None whatever?" "None." "Not even a sou?" "Not
even a sou!" "How do you live then?" "On what people give me." "Then you
beg?" And Randel answered resolutely: "Yes, when I can."

Then the gendarme said: "I have caught you on the highroad in the act of
vagabondage and begging, without any resources or trade, and so I
command you to come with me." The carpenter got up and said: "Wherever
you please." And placing himself between the two soldiers, even before
he had received the order to do so, he added: "Come, lock me up; that
will at any rate put a roof over my head when it rains."

And they set off towards the village, whose red tiles could be seen
through the leafless trees a quarter of a league off. Service was just
going to begin when they went through the village. The square was full
of people, who immediately formed two hedges to see the criminal, who
was being followed by a crowd of excited children, pass. Male and female
peasants looked at the prisoner between the two gendarmes, with hatred
in their eyes, and a longing to throw stones at him, to tear his skin
with their nails, to trample him under their feet. They asked each other
whether he had committed murder or robbery. The butcher, who was an
ex-Spahl, declared that he was a deserter. The tobacconist thought that
he recognized him as the man who had that very morning passed a bad half
franc piece off on him, and the ironmonger declared that he was the
murderer of widow Malet, whom the police had been looking for, for six
months.

In the hall of the municipal council, into which his custodians took
him, Randel saw the mayor again, sitting on the magisterial bench, with
the schoolmaster by his side. "Ah! ah!" the magistrate exclaimed, "so
here you are again, my fine fellow. I told you I should have you locked
up. Well, brigadier, what is he charged with?"

"He is a vagabond without house or home, M