ne, of getting into his bed,
of again repeating all the duties and actions of every evening, this
thought terrified him. As though to escape farther from this sinister
home, and from the time when he would have to return to it, he arose and
walked along a path to a wooded corner, where he sat down on the grass.

About him, above him, everywhere, he heard a continuous, tremendous,
confused rumble, composed of countless and different noises, a vague and
throbbing pulsation of life: the life breath of Paris, breathing like a
giant.

The sun was already high and shed a flood of light on the Bois de
Boulogne. A few carriages were beginning to drive about and people were
appearing on horseback.

A couple was walking through a deserted alley.

Suddenly the young woman raised her eyes and saw something brown in the
branches. Surprised and anxious, she raised her hand, exclaiming: "Look!
what is that?"

Then she shrieked and fell into the arms of her companion, who was
forced to lay her on the ground.

The policeman who had been called cut down an old man who had hung
himself with his suspenders.

Examination showed that he had died the evening before. Papers found on
him showed that he was a bookkeeper for Messieurs Labuze and Company and
that his name was Leras.

His death was attributed to suicide, the cause of which could not be
suspected. Perhaps a sudden access of madness!

ALEXANDRE

At four o'clock that day, as on every other day, Alexandre rolled the
three-wheeled chair for cripples up to the door of the little house;
then, in obedience to the doctor's orders, he would push his old and
infirm mistress about until six o'clock.

When he had placed the light vehicle against the step, just at the place
where the old lady could most easily enter it, he went into the house;
and soon a furious, hoarse old soldier's voice was heard cursing
inside the house: it issued from the master, the retired ex-captain of
infantry, Joseph Maramballe.

Then could be heard the noise of doors being slammed, chairs being
pushed about, and hasty footsteps; then nothing more. After a few
seconds, Alexandre reappeared on the threshold, supporting with all
his strength Madame Maramballe, who was exhausted from the exertion
of descending the stairs. When she was at last settled in the rolling
chair, Alexandre passed behind it, grasped the handle, and set out
toward the river.

Thus they crossed the little town every day amid