head--he walked light-heartedly
up the rue de la Gaiete, with his helmet tossed backwards on his
shaggy head, his heavy kit swinging in disordered fashion from his
shoulders, his mouth open, shouting meaningless things to the
passers-by, and his steps very short, jerky and unsteady. Thus it
happened, that many people, seeing him in this condition, shuddered,
and asked what France had come to, when she must place her faith in
such men as that. Other people, however, laughed at him, and made way
for him, or closed in on him and squeezed his arm, and whispered
things into his ears. Back and forth he ricochetted along the narrow
street, singing and swinging, mouth open, with strange, happy cries
coming from it. Some laughed and said what a pity, and others laughed
and said how perfectly natural and what could you expect.

Presently down the street came a big, double decked tramcar, and
Maubert stood in front of the tramcar, refusing to give way. It should
have presented a blue paper to him--or a pink paper--anyway, there he
stood in front of it, asking for its permission to circulate, and as
it had no permission, it stopped within an inch of running over him,
while the conductor leaned forward shouting curses. Then it was that
a firm but gentle hand inserted itself within Maubert's arm, while a
firm but gentle voice asked Maubert to be a good boy and come with
her. Maubert was very dazed, and also perplexed that he had not
received a paper from the big, double-decked tramcar, which obviously
had no right to circulate without such permission, sanctioned by
himself. He was gently drawn off the tracks, by that unknown arm,
while the big tramcar proceeded on its way without permission. It was
all wrong, yet Maubert felt himself drawn to one side of the roadway,
felt himself still propelled along by that gentle but firm arm, and
looked to see who was leading him. He was quite satisfied by what he
saw. The three bottles of wine made him very uncritical, but they also
inflamed certain other faculties. To these other faculties his
befogged mind gave quick response. To Hell with the tramcar, papers or
no papers, pink or blue. Also, although not quite so emphatically, he
relinquished all thoughts of arriving at the Gare du Nord, and of
finding a train to take him home to his province, where his wife
lived. The reasons that made him desire his wife, were quite
satisfied with the gentle pressure on his arm. Thus it happened that
big