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replaced the first one。 Perhaps he had married before the war； before
this frightful accident； and she； in despair and resignation； had been
forced to receive； care for； cheer； and support this husband； who had
departed； a handsome man； and had returned without his feet； a frightful
wreck； forced into immobility； powerless anger； and fatal obesity。
Was he happy or in torture？ I was seized with an irresistible desire to
know his story； or； at least； the principal points； which would permit me
to guess that which he could not or would not tell me。 Still thinking
the matter over； I began talking to him。 We had exchanged a few
commonplace words； and I raised my eyes to the net； and thought： 〃He must
have three children： the bonbons are for his wife； the doll for his
little girl； the drum and the gun for his sons； and this pate de foies
gras for himself。〃
Suddenly I asked him： 〃Are you a father； monsieur？〃
He answered： 〃No； monsieur。〃
I suddenly felt confused； as if I had been guilty of some breach of
etiquette； and I continued： 〃I beg your pardon。 I had thought that you
were when I heard your servant speaking about the toys。 One listens and
draws conclusions unconsciously。〃
He smiled and then murmured： 〃No； I am not even married。 I am still at
the preliminary stage。〃
I pretended suddenly to remember； and said：
〃Oh！ that's true！ When I knew you； you were engaged to Mademoiselle de
Mandel； I believe。〃
〃Yes； monsieur； your memory is excellent。〃
I grew very bold and added： 〃I also seem to remember hearing that
Mademoiselle de Mandel married MonsieurMonsieur〃
He calmly mentioned the name： 〃Monsieur de Fleurel。〃
〃Yes； that's it！ I remember it was on that occasion that I heard of your
wound。〃
I looked him full in the face； and he blushed。 His full face； which was
already red from the oversupply of blood； turned crimson。 He answered
quickly； with a sudden ardor of a man who is pleading a cause which is
lost in his mind and in his heart； but which he does not wish to admit。
〃It is wrong； monsieur； to couple my name with that of Madame de Fleurel。
When I returned from the war…without my feet； alas！ I never would have
permitted her to become my wife。 Was it possible？ When one marries；
monsieur； it is not in order to parade one's generosity； it is in order
to live every day； every hour； every minute； every second beside a man；
and if this man is disfigured； as I am； it is a death sentence to marry
him！ Oh； I understand； I admire all sacrifices and devotions when they
have a limit； but I do not admit that a woman should give up her whole
life； all joy； all her dreams； in order to satisfy the admiration of the
gallery。 When I hear； on the floor of my room； the tapping of my wooden
legs and of my crutches； I grow angry enough to strangle my servant。 Do
you think that I would permit a woman to do what I myself am unable to
tolerate？ And； then； do you think that my stumps are pretty？〃
He was silent。 What could I say？ He certainly was right。 Could I blame
her； hold her in contempt； even say that she was wrong？ No。 However；
the end which conformed to the rule； to the truth； did not satisfy my
poetic appetite。 These heroic deeds demand a beautiful sacrifice； which
seemed to be lacking； and I felt a certain disappointment。 I suddenly。
asked： 〃Has Madame de Fleurel any children？〃
〃Yes； one girl and two boys。 It is for them that I am bringing these
toys。 She and her husband are very kind to me。〃
The train was going up the incline to Saint…Germain。 It passed through
the tunnels； entered the station； and stopped。 I was about to offer my
arm to the wounded officer； in order to help him descend； when two hands
were stretched up to him through the open door。
〃Hello！ my dear Revaliere！〃
〃Ah！ Hello； Fleurel！〃
Standing behind the man； the woman； still beautiful； was smiling and
waving her hands to him。 A little girl； standing beside her； was jumping
for joy； and two young boys were eagerly watching the drum and the gun；
which were passing from the car into their father's hands。
When the cripple was on the ground； all the children kissed him。 Then
they set off； the little girl holding in her hand the small varnished
rung of a crutch； just as she might walk beside her big friend and hold
his thumb。
A STROLL
When Old Man Leras； bookkeeper for Messieurs Labuze and Company； left the
store； he stood for a minute bewildered at the glory of the setting sun。
He had worked all day in the yellow light of a small jet of gas； far in
the back of the store； on a narrow court； as deep as a well。 The little
room where he had been spending his days for forty years was so dark that
even in the middle of summer one could hardly see without gaslight from
eleven until three。
It was always damp and cold； and from this hole on which his window
opened came the musty odor of a sewer。
For forty years Monsieur Leras had been arriving every morning in this
prison at eight o'clock； and he would remain there until seven at night；
bending over his books； writing with the industry of a good clerk。
He was now making three thousand francs a year； having started at fifteen
hundred。 He had remained a bachelor； as his means did not allow him the
luxury of a wife； and as he had never enjoyed anything； he desired
nothing。 From time to time； however； tired of this continuous and
monotonous work； he formed a platonic wish： 〃Gad！ If I only had an
income of fifteen thousand francs； I would take life easy。〃
He had never taken life easy； as he had never had anything but his
monthly salary。 His life had been uneventful； without emotions； without
hopes。 The faculty of dreaming with which every one is blessed had never
developed in the mediocrity of his ambitions。
When he was twenty…one he entered the employ of Messieurs Labuze and
Company。 And he had never left them。
In 1856 he had lost his father and then his mother in 1859。 Since then
the only incident in his life was when he moved； in 1868； because his
landlord had tried to raise his rent。
Every day his alarm clock； with a frightful noise of rattling chains；
made him spring out of bed at 6 o'clock precisely。
Twice； however； this piece of mechanism had been out of orderonce in
1866 and again in 1874； he had never been able to find out the reason
why。 He would dress； make his bed； sweep his room； dust his chair and
the top of his bureau。 All this took him an hour and a half。
Then he would go out； buy a roll at the Lahure Bakery； in which he had
seen eleven different owners without the name ever changing； and he would
eat this roll on the way to the office。
His entire existence had been spent in the narrow； dark office； which was
still decorated with the same wall paper。 He had entered there as a
young man； as assistant to Monsieur Brument； and with the desire to
replace him。
He had taken his place and wished for nothing more。
The whole harvest of memories which other men reap in their span of
years； the unexpected events； sweet or tragic loves； adventurous
journeys； all the occurrences of a free existence； all these things had
re