ry, prophesying
national ruin. And he reconstructed Fauchery's article on the poisoned
fly, and he came before the house and declared that morals such as
these, which could only be paralleled in the days of the later Roman
Empire, rendered society an impossibility; that did him good. But the
shadows had meanwhile disappeared. Doubtless they had gone to bed again,
and, still watching, he continued waiting where he was.

Three o'clock struck, then four, but he could not take his departure.
When showers fell he buried himself in a corner of the doorway, his legs
splashed with wet. Nobody passed by now, and occasionally his eyes would
close, as though scorched by the streak of light, which he kept watching
obstinately, fixedly, with idiotic persistence. On two subsequent
occasions the shadows flitted about, repeating the same gestures and
agitating the silhouette of the same gigantic jug, and twice quiet was
re-established, and the night lamp again glowed discreetly out. These
shadows only increased his uncertainty. Then, too, a sudden idea soothed
his brain while it postponed the decisive moment. After all, he had only
to wait for the woman when she left the house. He could quite easily
recognize Sabine. Nothing could be simpler, and there would be no
scandal, and he would be sure of things one way or the other. It was
only necessary to stay where he was. Among all the confused feelings
which had been agitating him he now merely felt a dull need of certain
knowledge. But sheer weariness and vacancy began lulling him to sleep
under his doorway, and by way of distraction he tried to reckon up how
long he would have to wait. Sabine was to be at the station toward
nine o'clock; that meant about four hours and a half more. He was very
patient; he would even have been content not to move again, and he found
a certain charm in fancying that his night vigil would last through
eternity.

Suddenly the streak of light was gone. This extremely simple event was
to him an unforeseen catastrophe, at once troublesome and disagreeable.
Evidently they had just put the lamp out and were going to sleep. It was
reasonable enough at that hour, but he was irritated thereat, for now
the darkened window ceased to interest him. He watched it for a quarter
of an hour longer and then grew tired and, leaving the doorway, took a
turn upon the pavement. Until five o'clock he walked to and fro, looking
upward from time to time. The window seemed a dead