swathed in rags. Slowly, with hands numb with the cold, he
stuffed his pipe. It was snowing, a snow that melted as it fell.

"You will excuse me?" said Chevalier, and he slipped under the tarpaulin
and seated himself beside the old man.

From time to time they exchanged a remark.

"Rotten weather!"

"It's what we expect at this season. Winter's hard; summer's better."

"So you look after the job at night, old fellow?"

The old man answered readily when questioned. Before he spoke his throat
emitted a long, very gentle murmur.

"I do one thing one day; another thing another. Odd jobs. See?"

"You are not a Parisian?"

"No, I was born in La Creuse. I used to work as a navvy in the Vosges.
I left there the year the Prussians and other foreigners came. There
were thousands of them. Can't understand where they all came from. Maybe
you've heard of the war of the Prussians, young man?"

He remained silent for a long spell and then resumed:

"So you are out on a spree, my lad. You don't feel like going back to
the works yet?"

"I am an actor," replied Chevalier.

The old man who did not understand, inquired:

"Where is it, your works?"

Chevalier was anxious to rouse the old man's admiration.

"I play comedy parts in a big theatre," he said. "I am one of the
principal actors at the Odeon. You know the Odeon?"

The watchman shook his head. No, he did not know the Odeon. After a
prolonged silence, he once more opened the black cavern of his mouth:

"And so, young man, you are on the loose. You don't want to go back to
the works, eh?"

Chevalier replied:

"Read the paper the day after to-morrow, you will see my name in it."

The old man tried to discover a meaning in these words, but it was too
difficult; he gave it up, and reverted to his familiar train of thought.

"When once one's off on the loose, it is sometimes for weeks and
months."

At daybreak, Chevalier resumed his wanderings. The sky was milky. Heavy
wheels were breaking the silence of the paved roads. Voices, here and
there, rang through the keen air. The snow was no longer falling. He
walked on at haphazard. The spectacle of the city's reviving life made
him feel almost cheerful. On the Pont des Arts he stood for a long time
watching the Seine flow by, after which he continued on his way. On the
Place du Havre he saw an open cafe. A faint streak of dawn was reddening
the front windows. The waiters were sanding the brick pavement and
settin