despots, it made him tremble from head to foot, and
that constant fear had given him a very awkward manner in their presence,
a humble demeanor, and a kind of nervous stammering.

He knew nothing more about Paris than a blind man could know, who was led
to the same spot by his dog every day, and if he read the account of any
uncommon events, or of scandals, in his halfpenny paper, they appeared
to him like fantastic tales, which some pressman had made up out of his
own head, in order to amuse the inferior _employes_. He did not read the
political news, which his paper frequently altered, as the cause which
subsidized them might require, for he was not fond of innovations, and
when he went through the Avenue of the _Champs-Elysees_ every evening,
he looked at the surging crowd of pedestrians, and at the stream of
carriages, like a traveler who has lost his way in a strange country.

As he had completed his thirty years of obligatory service that year, on
the first of January, he had had the cross of the _Legion of Honor_
bestowed upon him, which, in the semi-military public offices, is a
recompense for the miserable slavery--the official phrase is, _loyal
services_ of unfortunate convicts who are riveted to their desk. That
unexpected dignity gave him a high and new idea of his own capacities,
and altogether altered him. He immediately left off wearing light
trousers and fancy waistcoats, and wore black trousers and long coats,
on which his _ribbon_, which was very broad, showed off better. He got
shaved every morning, trimmed his nails more carefully, changed his linen
every two days, from a legitimate sense of what was proper, and of
respect for the national _Order_, of which he formed a part, and from
that day he was another Caravan, scrupulously clean, majestic and
condescending.

At home, he said, "my cross," at every moment, and he had become so
proud of it, that he could not bear to see other men wearing any other
ribbon in their button-holes. He got especially angry on seeing strange
orders:--"Which nobody ought to be allowed to wear in France," and he
bore Chenet a particular grudge, as he met him on a tramcar every
evening, wearing a decoration of some sort or another, white, blue,
orange, or green.

The conversation of the two men, from the _Arc de Triomphe_ to Neuilly,
was always the same, and on that day they discussed, first of all,
various local abuses which disgusted them both, and the Mayor of Neuilly